Something's Come Up
by Porthos1013
Summary: Cadman and McKay got separated at the end of Duet, but little did Laura know that she took a bit of Rodney with her…McKayCadman, BeckettCadman CH 8 UP!
1. Prologue

Author: Porthos

Spoilers: Duet, Critical Mass

Summary: Cadman and McKay got separated at the end of Duet, but little did Laura know that she took a bit of Rodney with her…McKay/Cadman, Beckett/Cadman

Author's notes: I thought Cadman's comment in Critical Mass, that "Something came up," was a little vague and significant, but it never really got explained on the show, so this is my own version of an explanation. This part takes place just before the events of Critical Mass. Also, this is the latest in my "pair McKay with anyone" kick, so you've been warned. Further caution for male readers: contains brief discussion of women's menstrual cycle, so if that stuff icks you out, either don't read further, or just skip that part when you come to it. :D

Written in about 30 minutes and unbeta'd, despite the fact that my old beta aaobuttons does a magnificent job, I just don't have the time to get stuff beta'd right now. Therefore, any mistakes and/or crapiness are completely my own. Also, I hate this title, but I suck at titles, so if anyone can think of something better, please, please let me know.

oOo

Prologue: Something's Come Up

oOo

Carson normally sat with me while I was in the infirmary. Well, unless there was some sort of medical emergency while I was there, but that was just the one time. I'm not really sure you could even call it an "emergency," but Rodney and Colonel Sheppard had certainly caused an uproar when they came back from P4X-393 covered in slime and bright yellow feathers. By the way, the Big Bird jokes were so not started by me, no matter what Sheppard thinks.

Okay, well, maybe just the one about it being an improvement on the Colonel's hairstyle, but that one had nothing to do with Big Bird.

Anyway, the reason I was currently sitting in the infirmary was because I was losing my fight with the flu bug I'd been battling for a while. It was a nasty little monster, too. I'd been having headaches and nausea for going on two weeks now, and I just couldn't seem to shake it. Hence, the check up. Well, that and the fact that I was supposed to be shipping out on the Daedalus later that day. I didn't like the idea of spending several weeks away from Carson, or from Atlantis, but it was all part of the rotation of non-essential personnel, and I was apparently labeled as "non-essential," much to my displeasure. The reason I wasn't listening to my boyfriend's soothing brogue tell me just how essential I am is because he was off getting the results of the myriad of tests he'd run on me. Since sitting in the infirmary Carson-less and bored really sucked, I decided to amuse myself by playing with the light switches…with my mind. So cool.

The gene had been Rodney's parting gift after our separation, although he certainly didn't have any say in the matter. Carson had said that Zelenka's calculations regarding the Wraith beaming device may have been slightly off, and that some of McKay's DNA had been inadvertently transferred into me, namely the ATA mouse-gene that he carried. Carson assured me that there were no complications and allayed my fears that I might start to display some of Rodney's more…pervasive character traits. Of course, Rodney had loudly ridiculed the whole of the science staff upon this little revelation, protesting that if he had been in complete control of his faculties, the separation would have been perfect. Don't think I didn't catch the accusing glare he shot my way as he said it. Well, don't worry McKay, you drove me just as crazy as I drove you, so I guess we're even.

My mental workout of the Atlantian electrical system was cut short by the appearance of Carson, and to my dismay, he was wearing The Look. You know the one I mean, the look that people wear when they've got bad news and they don't want to tell you, because they don't know how you're going to take it. I know that look well, and…Oh, god, I'm dying aren't I? Or worse, Carson was breaking up with me. Right before I shipped out. Well, this bites.

"Carson, what's the matter?"

He seemed genuinely shocked that I knew something was up. Honestly, that man is even worse at bluffing than McKay.

"It's nothing." He looked down at what I can only assume was my results, then back up at me. He looked stuck between elation and pain, kind of like when my parents told me they'd gotten me a car for my sixteenth birthday, then took me out to the front yard and the only thing sitting there was a beat up, baby-puke green Yugo. It may have been missing both its fenders and a tail-light, but it was better than nothing.

"Actually, it may be something, but it's a good something." He seemed to reconsider that statement. "At least, I _think_ it's a good something, although you might not see it that way…" At my impatient glare, he continued, "I need to ask you a few questions first, and you're probably not going to like them."

I gave him a stern look. "I can handle whatever you can dish out, Beckett."

He nodded, then took a breath. "When was your last period?"

"Uh," I had to think about it for a second. It's not like I kept a highlighted calendar of my menstrual cycle in my back pocket or anything. Although, come to think of it, I probably needed to schedule a day to start wearing my "I have PMS and a Gun" t-shirt. Gotta keep those flyboys on their toes. "I think it was somewhere around five or six weeks ago, so I guess I'm a little late." I answered. "Why?"

He didn't answer, at least not at first. He just got another pained look, then said, "Have you had unprotected intercourse recently?"

I blushed profusely. "Carson, you know we've never—" I motioned vaguely between us.

He turned positively scarlet. "No, I think I'd remember something like that."

"I should hope so." It was out before I could think about it, and it made Carson turn even redder. I wondered briefly if his heart had any blood left to pump, since it all seemed to be located in his face. Although I probably looked about the same. "Carson," I continued, "what is all this about?"

He started fidgeting before he managed to speak. When he did start to talk, he did an impressive imitation of McKay's rambling geek-gasm of an explanation. "Well, I ran your blood tests, and I detected some hormonal imbalances, and of course that seemed preposterous, so I ran them again, and then I ran a chorionic gonadotropin test to confirm my suspicions, and—"

"Carson!" I admit, it might have been a bit rude to shout at him like that, but I don't feel too bad. Once he wasn't talking, he seemed to free up enough brain cells to remember that breathing involved inhaling as well as exhaling.

A bit more calmly, he continued. "Laura…you're pregnant."

I'm pretty sure the blood draining from my face solved my blushing problem. "Okay, your accent must be thicker than I thought, because I could have sworn you just said I'm pregnant."

"I did."

My laugh sounded mildly hysterical, even to me. "No no no, Carson, that's impossible, because you have to do something very specific to get pregnant, and I haven't done that in a while, longer than I'd care to admit, actually, and certainly not since we started seeing each other." My voice sounded smaller than I would have liked. "You believe me, right?"

Carson's face immediately softened and he took my hand. "Of course I do, love. And I've got a sort of…theory…on how this might have happened, but I'll need to run a few more tests, just to be sure."

"What do you mean? What's your theory?"

"I don't want to say anything until I know for sure."

"Carson," I tried to sound demanding, but I think it just came out sounding whiny and pleading. "I'll go crazy waiting for more tests. I need to know _now_."

There was a moment's hesitation as he mustered his resolve. "You know how you 'inherited' some of Rodney's DNA from the Wraith beaming device?"

Uh, oh. I so did not like where this was going.

"Well, I think some of that DNA may have found its way into an unfertilized egg and…fertilized it."

Okay, the floor is definitely not supposed to tilt like that. I gripped the edges of the infirmary bed in an effort to stop the spinning. "So, you're saying that…that Rodney is…and I'm…" It seems I was only able to manage one coherent thought before I passed out.

'Oh, crap.'

oOo

Author's notes 2: I stole "geek-gasm" from someone, because I love it, but I can't remember who it was. If you used it, let me know, and I'll give you credit for coining the term. :D

And yes, I know this is horribly bad science, but if they can use the "transferred DNA equals pregnancy" line in the movie Supernova, then I can use it here. ;P

And I'm just sort of experimenting with writing Cadman and Beckett. Let me know if their characters or voices sound off, because I've never really written them before. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 1

Author: Porthos

Author's notes: Takes place during the episode Critical Mass. I have no idea if the science is right, so just humor me, or send me corrections. Either way works for me. :)

Update: I corrected the scientific inaccuracy about amniocentesis, so in order to avoid rewriting the whole chapter, I'm just pretending there's some other test that Carson could do to determine the paternity. (There probably is some other test, but I don't know what it is and I'm too lazy to research it, so there you have it.) Thanks to my anonymous reviewer for pointing that out:)

oOo

I'm kinda glad I passed out, because at least I wasn't conscious for whatever tests Carson had to do. Primarily, he wanted to make sure the baby was healthy, but he also ran a paternal DNA test against the DNA he had on file for McKay. After he got the results back, I asked him to run the test again. I think he just humored me the third time, but by the fourth time he flat out refused.

I guess you could say I was having a tough time accepting it.

After Carson had me breathe into a paper bag for a while, he told me he thought I was calm enough to return to my quarters for the day, and that he'd draw up the necessary medical paperwork. Then he gave me a few pills, a pep talk in which I really just glazed over and listened to his brogue and watched his lips for a few minutes, and sent me on my merry way. I needed the bag three more times before I made it back to my quarters.

After about an hour of pinching myself repeatedly, I still wasn't waking up, so I think I just decided to go with it. I needed to tell McKay…eventually. That thought nearly sent me running for the bag again, but I managed to calm myself down enough without it. First, however, I had to talk the Colonel into letting me stick around Atlantis for a while longer.

I rapped on his door sharply, hoping that he wouldn't be home and I could just avoid this whole awkward situation altogether. Just my luck, he opened the door with a sleepy, and surprised, grin. "Lieutenant Cadman? What brings you to my door at this hour?"

Okay, I may have gone temporarily insane, but at least I had a good excuse. I furrowed my brow and said, "Sir, it's nearly 10:00."

Sheppard gazed at his watch and rubbed his eyes. "So it is," he said sleepily. "Give me about five minutes and you can escort me to the mess hall."

"Actually, sir, I—" Before I could protest that I really just had a quick question, Sheppard had disappeared back into his quarters and I was left standing there, the door having shut in my face.

As promised, five minutes later Colonel Sheppard emerged dressed in his uniform, but I was amused to see that his hair didn't look any different. "Okay, Cadman, let's go. I just hope they've got some of those weird orange eggs left."

"Yes, sir," I agreed, even as I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Actually, sir, I just had a quick question. I was wondering if I could stick around Atlantis, at least for a while longer."

"Okay," he seemed to consider that statement. "How much longer?"

Oh, about nine months, give or take a few weeks. "I'm not really sure yet, sir."

"Hmm. And I don't suppose you feel like telling me the reason you'd like to stick around?"

"It's…personal."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with Beckett, would it?"

"Uhm…not directly, no…" He'll just be the guy giving me ultrasounds and pumping me full of drugs when I finally have to go into labor.

The colonel shook his head. "Cadman, I don't know. If you're not willing to come clean about—" At that moment, we turned the corner to enter the mess hall, and the scent of those foul egg-things had me tossing my cookies into the nearest trash can. Literally. I know, cookies are not a part of your balanced breakfast, but they were there, they looked good, so sue me. I have a weakness for chocolate.

When I was done, the colonel, gentleman that he is, was there with a napkin ready. "Thanks," I offered feebly. He escorted me out of the mess hall within minutes, and that's when he had to ask.

"So, you want to tell me what's really going on?"

Okay, fine, he's gonna find out sooner or later, and doctor patient confidentiality doesn't really apply but I trust him, so… "You asked me how long I needed to stay on Atlantis. How does nine months sound?"

I watched his face as reality dawned. Yep, that was pretty much my reaction too, sir. "Does Carson know?" he finally asked.

This is where things get sticky. "Uh, Carson knows…but he's not the father...McKay is." Wipe that look off your face, Colonel, I am not a slut. "Through the Wraith transporter incident," I added quickly.

"Oh." And that's all he says for a while, is just, "Oh." Finally, I think it seems to dawn on him that his best friend is going to be a father, whether he likes it or not, and the blackmail and party potential irrevocably hits him. "This is so cool," he says with a smile. "Lieutenant, it's going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork, but you stay as long as you like. Permission granted."

I can't help but smile back. "Thank you, sir."

oOo

Two hours later, I'm on duty, working with some of the science department to help track some strange power signatures they've been recording. I'd just finished up with my section when I hear HIM approaching. I wasn't sure I was ready to face him yet, but fate seems to have taken that choice away from me. It seems odd, after about a month of him avoiding me, now it's me trying to avoid him! Abruptly, I decide to play it cool, which, once I get a good look at McKay, seems easy enough. I can't believe I still creep him out. I guess he thinks I have all these weird insights into his life since I've been in his head, but he doesn't realize that I'd be able to read him like a book even without being stuck in the same body. He's not as guarded as he seems to think. Still, I get a kick out of watching him squirm.

"Cadman?" he asks, sounding put out. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's good to see you too, Rodney."

"No, I thought you were leaving on the Daedalus."

Well, don't act too disappointed. "Yeah, I was, but something came up. I asked Colonel Sheppard if I could stay around a little while longer." The colonel and I exchange a look, and Sheppard smiles at Rodney like the cat that got the cream.

"Oh, well, that's fine."

Glad to have your approval, Rodney. How ever could I function without it? "You okay with that?" I ask, sarcasm heavy.

"Yeah, course it is, why wouldn't it be?" Twitchy, McKay, very twitchy. What is it about me that makes you so nervous? I give him a look that says, "I've got your number, buddy, so don't mess with me." It always freaks him out. With one last look at Sheppard, who is so loving this by the way, I slip past the two men and continue on to run a few more diagnostics. As I leave, I think I hear McKay telling Sheppard that I have a way of "getting under his skin." Poor Rodney, he's not going to know what hit him. I really need to break the news gently. If it freaked me out, and I'm a marine trained to deal with stressful situations, it's really going to send Rodney over the deep end.

oOo

Author's notes 2: Okay, I have the second part of the episode coming swiftly along. McKay will find out either in the next chapter or the one after that (I have to keep you guessing, don't I?) so just be patient. The next chapter will deal with McKay's aversion to kids.


	3. Chapter 2

Author: Porthos

Author's notes: Continuation of the episode Critical Mass, and beyond.

oOo

"C'mon, now, lass. It couldn't have been that bad." Carson was trying to be understanding, but so far all it was doing was ticking me off further.

"No, Carson, you didn't hear what he said! He actually _accused_ me of working for the Trust!" I was practically yelling. "How am I supposed to have a baby with this jerk when he doesn't even like me? Let alone trust me!"

"Laura, you know you haven't exactly spent the last month building a friendship with the man. He's bound to feel a little…put off by you." I glared at him, but mostly because I knew he was right. It didn't make me feel any less angry at Rodney, though. "Besides," he continued uncertainly, "far be it from me to doubt a friend, but how do you know Rodney will even want to be involved with the baby? He's not exactly child-friendly."

I think about that a moment, and I have to admit, Rodney is about as far from a full-size walking teletubby as you can get. I've heard stories of course, about the kids from M7G-677, the planet where Rodney just sent Zelenka. I was amused at the time, but now I don't like how much that upsets me. I had loving parents, I just want my child to have the same.

"It'll be all right, love," Carson gently squeezes my hand before releasing it. "When you tell him the news, I'll make sure to have Zelenka record his reaction. Whether he faints dead or screams and runs away like a wee girly, at least we'll have something to amuse ourselves with for quite a good while." I can't help the chuckle that escapes my throat, but then we turn the corner and run right into the Dreaded McKay.

"Ah, Carson. Hermiod's just beginning the initial calculations on the extraction."

I ignore the fact that he didn't bother to greet me along with Carson. "Extraction?" I ask, totally confused.

"Now?" Well, at least Carson seems to get what's going on.

"Mmm-hmm. Hermiod's going to attempt to extract the Goa'uld from Colonel Caldwell using Asgard beaming technology."

"Quite remarkable, actually." Carson looks at me, and I wonder if he's thinking what I'm thinking. Easy, no-suture cesarean! Just beam my baby out! Seriously, I'm not looking forward to labor. If it's anywhere near half as painful as it looks in the movies, I'm willing to avoid it at all costs.

"And complicated," McKay adds. "The calculations are impossibly intricate. You don't want to go beaming out a chunk of his brain."

Okay, well, maybe not _all_ costs.

"Lovely Rodney," Carson concurs.

"Hey, look who's back!" McKay seems way too excited, and my curiosity is piqued. Carson and I turn to see…Oh my…is that…Radek? "It's Mr. Mom! How were the kids?"

I don't think I've ever seen Zelenka that furious. I don't think I've seen _anyone_ that furious. And that includes my very scary father, when he caught me sneaking back into the house the Halloween that I was 16, not to mention the daughter of a cop who was so good at his job he could take your blood alcohol level just by looking at you. Yeah, _not_ a fun experience. Actually, with Zelenka's face painted like that, he kinda reminds me of the guy I made out with at that party…

"Do not even _speak_ to me." And wow, McKay's got brass ones. Zelenka's tone would have me shaking in my military-issue boots, but Rodney just grins back smugly. Either he has no clue what he's in for, or he's not afraid of the "accidental" lack of hot water that awaits him for the next month. Either way, I at least manage to hold _my_ giggle fit under control until Zelenka is out of earshot. Far, _far_ out of earshot.

oOo

A few hours later, I sit down at a table by myself, and examine my plate of food. Carson's meds have taken care of my nausea, and now my appetite has returned with a vengeance. I've heard of pregnancy giving you strange food cravings, but peanut butter and pickles? I don't even _like_ pickles!

I take a tentative bite because, let's face it, even if my body is screaming that this is going to be the best meal since my Aunt Jessi's spicy cheese taters, my head can't wrap itself around the idea of _pickles_ and _peanut butter_. Seriously. I nibble a little at the end of one of the pickles, and the next thing I know, I'm biting off huge chunks that I can hardly manage to chew. Geez, who knew pickles could be so good! And with peanut butter!

Then out of nowhere, McKay sits down across from me with a look of total revulsion. "Ugh. And I thought Ronon's table manners were disgusting." I try to tell him that if he finds it so disgusting, then he can just go find somewhere else to sit, but my mouth is full.

After a few difficult swallows, I'm able to talk again, but I can only stare in shock at the man in front of me. After a moment, he pauses in his voracious shoveling to ask past a mouth full of mashed potato-things, "What?"

I refrain from pointing out that he's not exactly Ms. Manners, either. "What do you want?" I ask snippily. Blame it on the hormones.

Rodney looks at me like I've got a third arm growing out of my face and I'm trying to use it to slap him silly. "I'm eating," he says, spitting a few not-potato particles onto the tray in front of him. Ew.

"No, I mean why are you here? With me? You hate me! Save it, McKay," I held my hands up to stop his protests. "I already heard the 'Cadman is the Bringer of Doom' speech you gave to Weir, so don't even bother trying to talk yourself out of it."

"Oh, please, don't tell me you're still upset about that!"

I squinted harshly at him. Man, what I wouldn't give to have laser vision right about now. I could burn a whole right through that over-inflated head of his. "Yes, McKay, I am _surprisingly_ still upset about you trying to convince the rest of Atlantis that I'm _trying to blow them all up_."

"Look, I didn't—"

"I don't get it. You and I were _very_ close for a couple of days," McKay winces at the reminder, but I continue, "in which I did nothing but try to help you out, maybe loosen you up a bit. I was willing to sacrifice myself so your 'magnificent brain' could go on functioning and saving Atlantis on a regular basis. I helped you out today with figuring out who was the _actual_ spy for the Trust. Why don't you trust me?"

Rodney didn't answer, he just set his face in a resolute expression. "Look, I just thought you should know, I was planning to apologize before this little temper tantrum of yours."

I raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Really?"

"Really!"

I examined McKay through narrowed eyes, and we stared at each other for several increasingly uncomfortable seconds. I waited for the vein in McKay's forehead to start doing the cha-cha before I asked my next question. "Did Colonel Sheppard put you up to this?"

Trigger the eye-roll. "Not that it should really matter, but he and I may have had a discussion…"

"How did he convince you to come talk to me? He beat you at Prime-Not-Prime, didn't he?" I really tried to hide the smile, I swear. "When are you going to realize he's got you beat when it comes to math?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. It seems I'd forgotten one of the primary rules when dealing with Rodney: Never cast doubt on the McKay brilliance, at least if you value your life. "I came up here to tell you that you did a good job today. Don't ever plan on hearing me say it again."

He got up to leave, and I reached out to grab his wrist. "Wait, Rodney. I'm sorry, sometimes I just let my mouth run away with me." Listen to me! After all the crap this guy put me through today, _I'm_ the one stuck apologizing! As he sat back down sulkily, I decided to go for broke. "I know that means a lot coming from you." He gave a stiff nod, but still wouldn't look at me. I finally broke the awkward silence that had briefly descended. I just couldn't help myself. "If you think that was good, just wait until you see me tap dance."

Rodney rolled his eyes in apparent exasperation, but I managed to catch the hint of a smile that he hid behind a forkful of food.

We managed to get through the rest of the meal with only a few minor flare ups, and yes, I did instigate a few of them. Rodney is just so hilarious when he's flustered and angry, and I think I deserved a little entertainment after having to sit through his recital of every single time he'd almost won the Nobel Prize in physics.

"And then, in 2001 I was so close, I had this brilliant theory on the role of neutrinos in cosmic particle-antiparticle conductivity, which was actually partially confirmed during one of SG-1's missions, but they ended up giving it to some guy from—"

"Tell me about your mission to M7G-677." I surprised myself with the question, but it wasn't like I could take it back now. And really, anything was better than another "Why I'm more brilliant than this guy" speech.

Rodney paused, mid-gloat, and looked at me. "The planet with all the kids? Why do you want to hear about that?"

Because it's a sneaky way to evaluate your fatherhood skills. "I dunno," I shrugged. "Intellectual curiosity. Zelenka seemed to have quite a time there."

Rodney didn't even bother hiding the grin. "Yes, he did, didn't he? I almost feel sorry for him, but better him than me."

"You don't like kids?" Way to be subtle there, Laura.

"No, kids are fine. My sister has kids. I like kids, in the…abstract sense of the word. They're just sort of…sticky. And loud. And then they start poking you, asking ridiculous questions, demanding attention and food, making a mess, wasting valuable time that you could be using to make groundbreaking discoveries—"

"So, you like kids fine when they don't have anything to do with you."

McKay pointed his finger at me in the universal gesture of "You get it!" With a half-grin, he said, "Exactly!"

Strike one. "But if the kids were yours…" I trailed off at Rodney's odd look. "I mean, hypothetically speaking of course, would you feel differently?"

McKay gave a thoughtful shrug. "I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway, because I don't plan on ever having kids."

Strike two. "You can't control everything, Rodney. After all, this is the Pegasus Galaxy, and things don't always go according to plan."

Rodney cast a withering glance my way, then spoke to me like I was one of his lab assistants having difficulty grasping the most elementary of concepts. "Look, having a kid or not having a kid is something that is easily controlled. Besides, I have more important things to do in this city than take care of some brat. If I had to stop and change diapers or feed and burp the rugrat every time I turned around, then this city would fall apart. Sure, I realize it's my theoretical duty to ensure that my superior genes are passed on to future generations, but in reality I'm just too important for the whole fatherhood thing."

Strike three. Well, Cadman, looks like you're on your own, because McKay is definitely out.

"Out of curiosity," Rodney asks past another mouth full of food, "what brought this up?" He took in the sight of the peanut butter-smeared pickle that I was eating, and a spark seemed to flicker behind his eyes. "Are you pregnant or something?"

oOo

Author's notes 2: Okay, this chapter was originally a lot longer, but it's taking me so long to finish that I just decided to chop it up and post this part. The good news is that this means I already have part of the next chapter written. The bad news is that I'm a teacher and I have the end of the 3rd quarter coming up, so it might not get posted for about 2 more weeks, when spring break finally rolls around. Also, I want to post something for the other fic I'm working on, Whale Song, before I update this again, because that one seems to have more readers. Although if I get a lot of reviews, it might make me work a little faster (Wink wink, nudge nudge.) :D


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm sorry this is a little late, but I've had a mild case of writer's block. I think the expectations of McKay's reaction had me a little nervous about this chapter, so I had to wrestle a few bunnies to the ground to make them stick around. Hopefully their friends will come join them soon…

oOo

"_Are you pregnant or something?"_

At my surprised gasp, a rather large chunk of pickle decided to get lodged in my throat. As I sat there choking, I could feel my face getting red and my eyes tearing up, but the only thing I could think of was, "I wonder how much longer I can go without air? Because having a giant pickle stuck in my throat is a lot more comfortable than the conversation I'm about to have."

McKay stared at me for a few seconds in panic, before getting up and rushing around the table to stand behind me and give me a couple good whacks on the back. If I wasn't too busy struggling to breathe, I'd give him a couple good whacks of my own.

Finally, I managed to cough up that traitorous pickle chunk, and it landed on my plate with a soggy flop. My appetite was suddenly gone again, and I could tell from McKay's face that he had no plans on continuing his meal. He sat down next to me, rubbing my back gently where he had been thumping it before, and breathing hard as if he had been the one suffering from oxygen deprivation.

I rubbed my throat and raised an eyebrow in his direction.

He let his hand slide off my back with a sheepish look. "Well, uh…I guess that's a yes, then?"

I quickly gathered up my things and stood. "No offense, McKay, but I just can't do this with you right now." I beat a hasty retreat, but I should have known Rodney would be right on my heels. The man is more stubborn than…well…me.

"Cadman, wait!" He stopped me just outside the doors to the mess, a confused grin on his face. "This is a good thing, isn't it? Carson will make a great father."

For a moment, I continued to stand there, my arms sullenly crossed over my stomach. I briefly considered letting McKay go on thinking that it's Carson's baby, because that would make this all so much easier. But keeping something this big a secret just isn't fair to Rodney, and even if he hates it, I decided he needed to hear it. I looked at the floor and mumbled out, "Carson's not the father. You are."

Rodney stared at me for so long I decided to count his blinks to pass the time. Six blinks…seven…finally at eight blinks, Rodney burst into hysterical laughter. Okay, I was expecting a bit of a freak out, but this exceeds even my expectations. Still sputtering with laughter, Rodney eventually chokes out, "That's…that's great. You almost…almost had me there…" He put a hand on my shoulder for support as he doubled over in another fit of hysterical giggles. And by the way, Rodney giggling? Probably one of the scariest sights I've ever seen. I, however, am about as far from amused as you can get. "Seriously…seriously, though…congratulations…you and Carson should—" Rodney's laughter was abruptly cut short when I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind him, slamming him face-first into the wall. "Ow! What the hell?"

"This is not a joke Rodney," I said, my voice calm. "Now, you've put me through quite a lot today—"

"_Me?_" he asked, indignant.

I continued as if I hadn't heard him. "—and I know you have absolutely no desire to be involved in this baby stuff, so—"

"Cadman!" he spits heatedly, his voice muffled slightly by the wall. "I always thought you were insane, but this just proves it! There is _no way_, I repeat, **NO WAY** that I could have gotten you pregnant!"

I turned him around to face me, but I kept him pinned to the wall. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I used his gene to make the light above his head flicker and opened and closed the mess hall doors. As I watched his face, I could see comprehension dawn. "Oh…crap." I just raised one eyebrow in response. My sentiments exactly. Suddenly, I could see the panic and fear grab hold of his mind, and then I was caught in the full force of the patented McKay Freak Out™. He began hyperventilating, interspersed with the occasional incoherent mumbling. His eyes glossed over and began darting around the hallway, unseeing, and his knees gave out as he slowly slid to the floor with a soft thud.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his behavior. I mean, sure, I had the same basic reaction to the news, but coming from McKay the whole thing seemed so much more…melodramatic. "Look, Rodney," I tried to sound soothing, but I think I sounded more annoyed than anything, "I know this is a lot of information to throw at you right now, but it's really not that big a deal."

Rodney stopped taking his pulse rate and mumbling about low blood sugar to glare at me, incredulous. "It's not?" I'm fairly certain he didn't mean for his voice to raise an octave at the last word.

"Okay, well, maybe it is kind of a big deal," I backpedaled. "But it's not anything you have to worry about, because…because…um, are you supposed to be turning purple?" The only response I got from Rodney was more hyperventilation with the occasional wheezy sentence I couldn't make out, and that's when I started to panic a little bit too. "Okay, um, Rodney, just breathe, okay?" I looked around frantically for anything that might help him out, and I spied a lieutenant coming out of the mess hall with the brown bag special. Never before had I been so happy that somebody on the cooking staff had suggested peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as an alternative to some of the more…creative fare that the mess usually offered.

I ran to the lieutenant and snatched the bag right out of his hand. He yelled out a protest, but I just called back over my shoulder, "Mine now! Deal with it!" in a sing-song voice. When I reached Rodney's side, I unceremoniously dumped out the contents and offered McKay the empty bag. He immediately began breathing into it as I coached him along. "That's good. Deep, even breaths…" Rodney shot me a glare that could melt the entire continent of Antarctica. "Er, right, sorry. Done this before, haven't you?" The thunderous glare turned into an eye roll, and I settled in next to Rodney, both our backs to the wall. After a few minutes, I was fairly certain that Rodney didn't need the bag anymore, but was still using it for effect. What a drama queen!

"Listen, Rodney," I began, "I know you didn't exactly plan this…well, neither did I for that matter, but…Look, what I'm trying to say is that if you don't want to have anything to do with the baby, then I don't expect you—"

Rodney let out a muffled exclamation into his paper bag that I'm reasonably certain was a "What?" He took the bag off of his face and continued talking. "Don't be stupid! Of course I want to be involved!"

I frowned at him and narrowed my eyes. What was this, selective amnesia? "Rodney, in case you've forgotten, you just said—"

"I know what I said!" he interrupted, irritated. "But that was before, this is now." His hands gestured emphatically to demonstrate the "before" and "now" of that statement. Thanks, Rodney, I needed a visual aid to understand how time passed!

To say I was skeptical of his intentions may have been the understatement of the century. "Rodney, five minutes ago you didn't want—"

"Five minutes ago I didn't have a kid!" He paused, "Okay, well, I guess technically I did, but I just didn't…" He trailed off and closed his eyes, trying to regain his focus. "Look, that's not the point! The point is, I want to be involved now. And you're just going to have to accept that."

I looked at him for a long time, but he didn't look at me. Finally, I said slowly, "Okay."

"Okay," he nodded forcefully, apparently feeling like he'd won some sort of argument. I just smiled and shook my head. The surprises just kept on coming.

After a few moments of pleasant silence, I felt Rodney's eyes on me, and I turned to face him. His eyes were wide, and he still looked terrified, but somehow this was a different sort of terrified. I can't explain it, but it almost felt like a good kind of terrified. Looking down at where my hands rested on my stomach, he held a hand out and asked, "Can I…?"

Understanding his question, I nodded and took my hands off of my stomach, then felt his warm hand gently rest where my hands had been a moment before. I watched his face the entire time, but he never took his eyes off of where his hand rested. After a moment, a hint of a wistful smile touched his face, and I felt my own face light up in a brilliant smile of my own. This must be what people mean when they say pregnant women "glow."

Abruptly, Rodney's expression became wide-eyed and panicky again. I was about to reach for the bag when Rodney looked up at me and asked with more awe than I thought his voice could possess, "What are we going to name it?"

I burst out laughing then and placed my own hand over Rodney's, squeezing it affectionately. "Rodney," I said past my giggles, "we can name it later."

oOo

Author's notes: Okay, there's Rodney's reaction. I hope I did the story in my head justice, but I just don't know that I'm satisfied with this. Hopefully my writer's block will be lifted shortly, and I'll be able to continue this soon.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay, I know, it's been months since my last update, I apologize profusely! I've had writer's block big time, and of course, OF COURSE an idea hits me now! I had graduation, my dad's birthday, and mother's day this weekend, right before finals week, and I have to take the GRE next weekend, so _naturally_, inspiration hits now…literally. I was cleaning the bathroom when I was thinking about this, and I was getting so excited about it that I started rushing through it so I could sit down and write, and I knocked a bottle of shaving cream onto my toe. But I don't care if my toe is broken, because I now have the next three chapters planned! Go me!

This part takes place during Grace Under Pressure, and I'm kind of playing with the timeline a little, so maybe you could call it AU, I don't know. It will definitely be AU after I get through Inferno, because I plan on pretending Allies never happened. Obviously, it's going to have to go AU from there, but until then I'm trying to stick to canon as best I can. ;)

oOo

The next month or so passed pretty uneventfully…Well, as uneventful as things get on Atlantis. There was that minor incident in which McKay had accidentally set Zelenka's hair on fire. At least, Rodney swore it was an accident. Apparently Radek had been standing too close to one of the circuit panels while he and Rodney were running diagnostics, and one of them overloaded in a bright shower of sparks, resulting in flames, arm waving on a grand scale, and a lot of odd-sounding curses that spewed forth from Zelenka like a man possessed. When it was all over, Rodney was left with a slightly singed and VERY pissed-off second in command.

A week later, McKay's notes on Atlantean superstring theory "mysteriously" vanished from his computer. Zelenka didn't even bother to hide his toothy grin when Rodney ranted about the weeks of work he'd lost. The way Rodney described it, you would have thought he was conveying a Shakespearean tragedy of epic proportions.

Rodney had related the whole fiasco to me over lunch in the mess. I was eating my usual pickles, this time with ketchup, which McKay had said was only slightly less repulsive than the chocolate sauce from the day before. At the time, I had tuned him out as he updated me on the latest dastardly exploits of Zelenka's villainy and took the opportunity to reflect on the odd friendship that seemed to have sprung up between us.

I had been put on light duty for "medical reasons" so we frequently bumped into each other around the city. At first, I think we each had to make a conscious effort to strike up a conversation, but later it seemed to come naturally. Rodney had eventually stopped looking at me like I was either going to read his mind or blow him up, but the oddest part was that no matter where or when we met up, Rodney always happened to have some baby name book or advice book on parenting that he would whip out as soon as we were alone. It was humorous and endearing enough for me to put up with him reading me passages from the books (which he had dog eared and highlighted!), critiquing the authors of each book, and describing the act of birth in all its horrifying glory. I never asked him where he was getting the books, but I had a pretty good idea. I had received a copy of _Pregnancy for Dummies_, followed by _What to Expect When You're Expecting_, which had been edited by a thick black marker to read _What to Expecting When You're Expecting The Unexpected, AKA Pregnancy in Pegasus_. The note on the inside flap of each read, "From Uncle John."

Carson and Sheppard had both been very supportive of the whole thing, and were keeping the baby a secret, as I had requested. It's not that I didn't trust the rest of Atlantis, but I just wasn't ready to tell anyone else. I knew it was only a matter of time before I started to show, and then it would be nothing but whispered conversations that quickly shushed as I walked into a room, and I wanted to put that off for as long as I could. Sheppard had quietly taken me off of the rotation list, and if Dr. Weir gave me strange looks as I put pickles in my chili, at least she never said anything about it.

Carson had been caring and loyal, as always, and I was never happier for it than I was now, as I sat across from him in the mess, pushing my macaroni and pickles around my plate. Although I was glad he was there for me when I needed him, a small part of me wished Rodney was here instead, tossing out potential baby names like Marie and Albert while I countered with Nevaeh and Geraldo. But McKay wasn't here. Instead, he was currently several thousand feet below the ocean, trapped in a malfunctioning Jumper, and that thought alone was enough to make me shove my tray away in disgust, all pretense of eating gone.

Carson looked at me sympathetically and squeezed my hand. "Don't worry, love. Sheppard and Zelenka will find him. I'm sure they're working out a plan as we speak."

I refrained from pointing out that that didn't make me feel any better. In fact, I was fairly certain that the only reason Rodney had agreed to test fly the Jumper was out of some residual guilt from the Fuzzy-haired Inferno Incident. "I know," I replied sullenly, putting my face in my hands and stubbornly refusing to picture Rodney stuck in that Jumper, surrounded by miles of icy sea water. I had been inside McKay's head, and I remember the brief lurch of his stomach every time he stepped into a transporter, and that was only for a few seconds. I didn't want to think about what being trapped inside that Jumper was doing to him. I didn't want to imagine him eyeing the walls as they closed in, heart pounding, struggling to breathe, beating the walls in panic…

"Damn it, McKay!" I slammed my fist down hard on the table, making Carson jump and drawing wary glances from more than a few of the people around me. "I should be down there with him! He's probably going nuts, and Griffin doesn't know how to handle him like I do!"

Carson furrowed his brow, gazing at my stomach then my face with a mixture of sympathy and confusion. "You don't mean that, lass."

"No, I suppose not," I conceded, closing my eyes in frustration as I unconsciously rubbed my belly. "I just feel so useless! I feel like I should be doing something, not sitting around making goo goo eyes at my boyfriend."

There was no mistaking the flash of hurt in Carson's eyes and voice. "I hardly think that's what you're doing here, Laura."

My temper instantly melted away. "God, Carson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lash out like that, I just feel—"

"Helpless," he finished for me. "I know," he added, giving my hand another warm squeeze.

I tried to return his tender smile, but only managed an exhausted grimace. "I think I'm going to head back to my quarters, maybe lie down for a while. And I'm sure you need to get back to the medical wing, you'll probably have your work cut out for you when McKay and Griffin get back."

"Aye," Carson nodded, "Rodney always wreaks havoc on my infirmary." His attempt at light-heartedness falls flat as we both consider that Rodney might not be coming back from this one. I see in his face the moment he shoves that thought aside, and I do the same.

We exchanged tight lipped smiles, and he brushed a light kiss to my cheek before heading off. I held on to his hand for an extra second of contact before I released my hold, then paused for only a moment before calling out, "Hey, Beckett!" He turned, and I let a real smile grace my lips. "Thanks." He smiles back, then the mess hall doors close behind him.

Suddenly very tired, I headed towards my quarters, dragging my feet the whole way. I considered taking a detour to check on Sheppard's progress, then decided against it. Any important progress and Sheppard would let me know. Just to be sure, I tapped my headset as I entered my quarters, hearing the familiar buzz of static. Yep, still working Laura, just like the last 12 times you checked.

I flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. Unbidden, images of Rodney's panic-stricken face surrounded by freezing water spring into my mind. Cursing under my breath, I looked around the room for something to distract me. I spied the baby names book that Rodney had left with me after our last lunch session, and smiled as I tentatively fingered the cover. Impulsively, I picked it up and flipped through the dog eared pages, past the highlighted names with various stars and notes scribbled in the margins. It would figure that McKay had a rating system for the names he liked. Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the corner of my mouth from quirking upwards, I finally found the page I was looking for. There was a big black X through the name, and I tried not to take it as a sign. Out in the margin I see the note "NO! NO! NO!" written in McKay's chicken scratch that some might call handwriting. I read the name silently to myself.

Rodney (boy)

Source: Old English

Meaning: Island in the sea

I stopped contemplating why a man as arrogant as McKay would refuse to have his child named after him and chose instead to read the name's meaning again. Fitting. If ever there was a man who tried to make himself an island, it was Rodney McKay. All bluster and harsh condescension, designed to keep people away. But as they say, no man is an island, and the universe seems to have a penchant for Karmically kicking McKay's ass. It conspired to assault Rodney from all sides with people determined to put up with him, and as a result he failed miserably in his endeavor to remain the lone island towering above the sea of idiots. I doubt he minds that particular failure, though.

I slammed the book shut in a flash of anger. McKay was _so_ in a giant mountain of trouble when he got home. Like his ability to attract trouble from all points of the universe simultaneously wasn't bad enough, but now he had to go and drag me into it, and he'd probably passed that particular gene to his offspring as well, right along with that ATA mouse-gene he was so proud of. Well damn McKay and his Karmic genes, damn his stupid ability to worm his way into my life despite both our best efforts, and especially damn him for being such a soft-hearted, insecure, attention-starved hypochondriac instead of the haughty bastard everyone thought he was, because now I was just making myself sick with worrying about him.

I clutched the book to my chest as I lay down on my bed. Giving in to the pull of fatigue, I allowed my eyes to flutter closed momentarily. I only meant to rest for a brief minute, but I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Colonel Sheppard's voice was buzzing in my ear through the radio. "Cadman, come in. Lt. Cadman, you there?"

Snapping awake instantly, I tapped my headset with shaking fingers. "I copy, Colonel. Any news?" I think I did a pretty convincing job of keeping my voice level, even if my insides were squirming.

"Zelenka and I are heading out in Jumper 3 right now. Just thought you might want to wish us luck on our rescue mission," he says it with his usual carefree smirk in his voice, but I can hear the edge there as well.

Okay, how long was I out? With a quick glance to the clock, I figured I must have been asleep for at least two hours! Absently, I said into my radio, "Good luck, sir." I feel a sudden moment of irrational panic, and call out, "Colonel!" Unsure of what exactly I was planning to say, I swallow past the unexpected lump in my throat and manage to whisper, "Bring him home safe."

There is only a momentary pause from his end. "I will." He said with finality, and I could almost hear the determined nod that punctuated his words. "Sheppard out."

There was a click as our connection ended, and I reached for my headset, but couldn't bring myself to take it off. Instead, I tap the radio to open a new connection. I really need a good distraction while I wait for Sheppard to return home with McKay in tow, and I know just the person to keep my mind occupied. "Carson," I call into the headset, "Are you busy?"

oOo

Less than an hour later, I stood anxiously in the Jumper Bay as the back hatch to Jumper 3 opened far too slowly for my liking. I'd have to talk to McKay about rigging the hatches to open faster in the event of an emergency, such as, for example, a hormonally imbalanced and armed pregnant woman waiting impatiently for the idiot father of her child to come home safely, so she can kill him with her own two hands! Hypothetically speaking, of course…

The jumper hatch finally, FINALLY, banged against the floor of the Jumper Bay and I somehow managed to make it into the Jumper before Carson's team even began moving. McKay was standing there, leaning against Sheppard for support, and I surprised them both when I flung my arms around Rodney in an enthusiastic hug, burying my face in his cold, wet chest. Rodney was so shocked, in fact, that he just stood there like the big, freezing, soggy lump that he was. Before he could really react, I released him and promptly punched him in the arm. Hard. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again! Do you have _any_ idea how worried I've been?" I steadfastly ignored the looks I was getting from Carson, Sheppard, Zelenka, and Dr. Weir, all showing different levels of shock and amusement. Okay, so maybe I sounded a little like a nagging wife scolding her husband after a night of binge drinking with his buddies, but I certainly wasn't going to let Rodney expect me put up with his tendency to be a danger-magnet on a regular basis. And, just to make sure he got it, I smacked him again.

"Ow," he muttered lethargically, rubbing his arm. Turning hopeful blue eyes to Sheppard, he said, "Please tell me I'm still hallucinating." Sheppard just smiled and guided Rodney toward the waiting gurney. As they started to cart him off in the direction of the infirmary, he reached out his hand to clasp mine with icy fingers. "Hey, Cadman?" he said, his voice softening as he fought unconsciousness, "If we have a girl, let's name her Sam."

His hand released mine as he drifted off, and this time it was my turn to stand there like a shocked lump. After a long moment, I snapped my jaw shut with a crack and hazarded a glance at the people around me. Carson cast a panicked glance over his shoulder as he followed the delirious and barely conscious McKay. Sheppard was trying very hard to pass off his amused chuckles and snorts as a coughing fit, and failing spectacularly. Zelenka looked like his brain had broken, and Dr. Weir was staring at me with pursed lips and the raised Eyebrow of Doom.

Clearing my throat, I stammered, "So, ah, I've uhm…I've got some news…"

oOo

A/N: Reviews will magically make my toe stop throbbing and give me the ability to type faster, thus update sooner:)


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: So, is it just me, or does the document manager crash regularly for everyone else here? Seriously, about 1/3rd of the time when I want to update my fics, the document manager hates me. It makes me sad. :(

Also, beware the angst in this one. It's mild, and not anything that Rodney fans didn't already suspect, but still, this bit is a lot less light hearted than the others.

oOo

To say the meeting with Dr. Weir was unpleasant may have been the understatement of the millennium. If I say I would rather have been stuck naked on a hive ship being chased by voracious Wraith than sitting in her office, sandwiched between my commanding officer and my boyfriend, then you're getting a clearer picture of the personal hell I was enduring. She was staring me down with a look that distinctly reminded me of the time I had to face my mom after drunkenly accepting a dare to spraypaint "SUCKS" under the "Westville" water tower.

To be fair, I actually hadn't said much. Carson and Sheppard, bless their hearts, were taking the brunt of the harsh questioning. Dr. Weir was understandably ticked about not being kept in the loop, and the boys took turns apologizing profusely (Carson) and spinning yarns about wanting to protect her from Caldwell's military fascism through plausible deniability (Sheppard). When I could tell she had almost had enough, I finally managed to pluck up enough courage to rescue them from her wrath. "Ma'am, it was my fault," I spoke up. "I asked them to keep it a secret, partly because I was afraid of how people would treat me, but also because I wanted some time by myself to adjust to the idea. They were only doing what they felt was right."

And there was that look, the same one my mom had given me years ago, right after ripping me a new one for a) being drunk, b) being manipulated by peer pressure, and c) misspelling "SUCKS" as "SUKCS." It was the look that said, "Yes, you've screwed up, but it's fixable, preferably through many hours of manual labor." I think I still have orange spraypaint stuck underneath my fingernails from hours of scrubbing.

Leaning over her desk, Dr. Weir spoke in her maternal tone, the one I'd normally heard her use on Sheppard and McKay after their occasional bouts of idiocy. "Lieutenant, I understand that this has been a daunting experience for you, and I'm not blaming you for your actions. What I'm trying to understand is why you felt you couldn't come to me about this."

I furrowed my brow and stared at my hands, picking at imaginary orange paint while I formulated my answer. "I…I suppose I was afraid you'd send me back to Earth. Say something like, 'The Pegusus Galaxy is no place to raise a child,' and send me packing. And you'd be right to do it, but I want this baby to be raised in a loving home, and I can't think of a better place to do that than here, in Atlantis. I know I haven't been here very long, but it…it feels like home to me."

Dr. Weir's face softened, and she let out a breath as the tension eased in her shoulders. "Lieutenant…Laura, I'm not sending you back to Earth. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about the thought of raising a baby in Atlantis, but from what I understand, this isn't exactly a normal pregnancy. I think for the time being, you should be kept here, near Rodney, and under Carson's very skilled care. However," she directed the next part at Sheppard, "the time may come that I need to re-evaluate that decision. But for now, I agree with Colonel Sheppard's appointment of light duties only, and regular check ups with Dr. Beckett."

"Thank you, Ma'am," I nodded, and the three of us stood to leave. Unfortunately, Sheppard didn't get off as easy as the rest of us. She called him back and the last thing I heard before the door closed was Sheppard saying I was "technically" under his command, so he really didn't have to tell her anything if it didn't threaten the city. Judging by her thunderous expression, I was glad I wasn't around to hear the rest of that conversation.

After the meeting, Carson and I walked to the infirmary to check on Rodney. As Carson inspected instruments and tubing, occasionally making notes on his chart, I plopped into the chair next to Rodney's bed and easily snatched the book out of his hands, ignoring his very vocal objection. I glanced down at the page he had marked and saw a name highlighted, circled emphatically, and with 5 stars next to it, McKay's highest rating. Rolling my eyes, I tossed the book back on his lap with a snicker. "For the last time, McKay, we're not naming our baby Samantha."

"Why not?" he replied defensively.

"We've been through this already, I'm not naming my baby after your old girlfriend!"

"She was never my girlfriend," he stated morosely, then lifted his chin haughtily. "The passion was there, but with the two of us traveling so much, we just never seemed to make it work."

"Sheppard told me you pissed her off and she sent you to Siberia," I said casually, flipping through a 5 month old magazine. Ugh, don't celebrities have personal style consultants that can keep them from inflicting unnecessary ruffles on an innocent public? Cute shoes, though…

Carson interrupted McKay's spluttering protests. "Rodney, relax. Your blood pressure is climbing," he scolded.

Taking pity on Rodney, and also fearing another of Carson's "talks" about riling up patients whose natural state is perpetual borderline hypertension, I said, "Fine, if it's a girl, we can name her Samantha." Still flipping through my magazine, I added, "But if it's a boy, we name him Angus."

Rodney's smile aborted halfway, shifting into a look of contempt. "Angus? You can't be serious."

"Why not? It's a nice, strong Scottish name, McKay. Aren't you proud of your heritage?"

"I think you're confusing me with Beckett. I have never sheared a sheep in my life," he said in a tone of ultimate condescension.

I shrugged, still not looking up from my magazine. "We could always go with Argyle."

I cast a surreptitious glance at Rodney and had to artfully stifle a laugh as his eyes widened in horror. Carson didn't bother to hide his chuckle. "Did you put her up to this?" he accused. Carson held up his hands in a "Who, me?" gesture, then excused himself to let the two of us battle it out, promising to return to check on Rodney later. After a few moments of silent fuming, McKay conceded. "Fine. No Samantha," he said, angrily putting an X through the name in his book. "Angus," he muttered to himself. "Where do you come up with these names?"

Smiling triumphantly, I put down the magazine. "Angus was MacGyver's first name."

Rodney just rolled his eyes and flipped another page in his book. After a few seconds of silence, he asked me The Question, the one I knew he'd get around to asking sooner or later. "So, what did Elizabeth say?"

I smiled, "Well, the good news is that I'm not getting kicked off Atlantis."

Some of the tension seemed to bleed from Rodney's frame, and he nodded his approval. "And the bad news?"

"She gave me the Mom Look," I groaned. McKay's expression couldn't have said, "You are clearly psychotic, and I have no clue what you're talking about," any clearer if he had written it across his forehead in black marker. I squinted at him in disbelief. "You know, the MOM LOOK! The look that your mom gave you when you were little that made you sit down, shut up, and possibly run away screaming with your hands over your butt so you wouldn't get spanked. Don't you remember that look?"

Rodney just stared at his hands and said quietly, "Yeah, I know that look."

I had heard the whispers about his family, of course, but I never paid it much attention…until now. Staring into those sad blue eyes that were a million miles away, I suddenly realized how appallingly little I actually knew about Rodney McKay. I knew all about Carson's mom, he talked about her all the time, and I do mean _all the time_, but I didn't even know the names of Rodney's parents, let alone how they treated him as a kid, I didn't even know his favorite flavor of ice cream! I remembered him mentioning something about his sister, but that's all I'd ever heard of her. Never one to back down from a challenge, or rather, to keep my mouth shut when I knew better, I wasn't about to start now. Trying for casual, I asked, "So, McKay, tell me about your family."

He looked up at me like he'd forgotten that I was there. "What?" he asked. Okay, so maybe he was still a little delirious from being cooped up at the bottom of the ocean for hours on end. That didn't mean I had to go easy on him.

"Did you get water in your ears while you were down there? I asked you to tell me about your family," I teased, hoping he would snark back. He always seemed the most comfortable when he was able to trade barbs.

Unfortunately, he didn't take the bait. Looking mildly uncomfortable, he asked, "Why?"

Well, this certainly wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. "I don't know, just curious I guess." Fumbling for something that would draw the information out of him, I asked the first question that came to my head. "What's your sister's name?"

Rodney nodded, looking slightly more comfortable. "Jeanie. Jeanie McKay. She's younger, by 3 years. She's divorced, two kids, and lives in Texas now."

"There, now, was that so hard?" I asked, smiling warmly.

I was rewarded with McKay's withering glare. "I realize that basking in my glowing presence is a rare treat for you, but seriously, why the sudden interest in my family life?"

Oops, busted. Time to change tactics. Honesty it is, then. "Well, considering the McKay family line is going to be growing by one, I figured it might be a good idea to learn a little about your side of the family. I'm sure your parents are going to want to meet their grandchild when it's born, so it would be nice to know something about them before meeting them."

Rodney looked positively sick at the thought. "They're never going to see my baby."

I felt my stomach drop at his words. I'd never heard him use that tone before, like anger, fear, and resolve all mingled together, and in truth it scared me a little. Scooting my chair closer to his bed, I took his hand in mine and he looked at me, that small gesture seeming much larger somehow. In a small, quiet voice, I asked, "What did they do to you, Rodney?"

Rodney hesitated for a second, mechanically brushing his thumb across the back of my hand. "You have to understand, my parents weren't bad people, they were just…angry. They yelled a lot, not just at me, but Jeanie too, and at each other, so—"

"Rodney." At my voice he closed his eyes for a second and seemed to refocus, and I was struck with how childlike that typical McKay gesture was, like a scared little boy closing his eyes to convince himself that the monsters in the closet weren't there, it was just the shadows.

"Right, sorry," he continued. "They…They never really did anything bad, just normal things that parents did, being grounded, sent to bed without dinner, time outs…" He swallowed thickly after that, letting his voice and his thoughts trail off.

Squeezing his hand lightly, I said, "Tell me about the time outs, Rodney."

When he finally began talking again, I thought he was avoiding my question, but I decided to let him talk, figuring he would take me to the answer eventually. "At our first house, before we moved, we had this little closet downstairs. My parents used it as a coat closet. It was really only big enough for one person to stand inside. It smelled like moth balls. My…When I got time outs, my parents would lock me inside it. I…don't really know how long they kept me in there, but sometimes they would forget, and I…I wouldn't be let out until it was time to leave for school the next day."

"Oh, god," I breathed. I didn't need to hear any more, that small fact had painted a pretty clear picture of Rodney's childhood. And it went a long way to explain his claustrophobia, not to mention adding a whole new dimension to his expedition to the bottom of the sea.

Rodney had my hand clasped tightly in his, and he locked his determined eyes with mine. "I will _never_ be like them. I promise."

I tried to say, "I know," but no words made it past my throat. Instead, I just nodded, seeing in him someone much stronger than I ever suspected, and I was overcome with pride that he had trusted me this much.

Several seconds passed before Rodney cleared his throat, the moment gone. Releasing my hand, he fidgeted a little and asked, "So, Cadman, do you want to tell me about your family, or do you just want me to tell you what I read in your file?"

Gratefully taking the bait, I replied in mock horror, "You read my file?"

"Oh, please, you're just jealous I thought of it first," he said with a self-satisfied grin. And really, I couldn't argue with the truth.

"Fine, you want my life story, settle in and prepare to be entertained." I cracked my knuckles and cleared my throat theatrically, getting the desired eye roll from McKay. "I was born in the tiny town of Westville, South Dakota, population approximately 2000, but only about 1000 if you don't count the cows and tumbleweeds. I was a tap dancing prodigy at an early age, but my plans to become the greatest thing to hit Broadway since Ginger Rogers were soon taking a back seat to an even greater love of mine: blowing things up."

"Was that before or after you turned to a life of crime?" McKay interrupted.

I smiled broadly, unfazed by the fact he had obviously read my juvenile record, too. "Pretty much simultaneously," I answered with a wink. "Words cannot describe how happy my parents were when I joined the Marines. They mistakenly thought I'd learn some discipline. I just wanted to be able to blow things up legally."

"More proof that nobody in command of the US military has a brain in their head. Anybody who would supply you with C4 has got to be the intellectual rival of garden tools." There was no bite in his tone, and my laughing grin was met by a fond smirk. After a few seconds of pleasant silence, he asked, "What were your parents like?"

I faltered for a moment, unsure if talking about this would cause Rodney more pain. As if sensing my thoughts, he held his hand out to me, palm up. Instinctively, I put my hand in his, taking it as a sign that he was okay with our discussion. Meeting his eyes, I said, "My parents were pretty typical, actually. Carpools, family BBQs, that kind of thing. My dad was the police chief, and my mom was a member of the City Council, so the Cadman household was run like a tight ship, if you can imagine. Really, my parents were…pretty great, actually."

Rodney looked at me curiously as I unconsciously allowed my other hand to come to rest over the very slight bulge on my stomach. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said.

"No, I mean I'm happy that I had great parents, but it's just…It's a lot to live up to. I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing here Rodney. I don't know anything about raising a baby, my Mom Look is beyond pitiful if the reaction of the Athosian kids is anything to go by, I just…You know me, I'm like a big kid myself. How am I supposed to raise another person?"

Rodney looked at me for several moments, as if trying to formulate an answer, but I wasn't really expecting one. I was busy trying to figure out what I saw in those blue depths when Carson whipped back the curtain around Rodney's bed, his cheerful voice asking, "So, how's our patient?"

Rodney snatched back his hand like he'd been burned. Carson's smile immediately fell, and the two looked at each other, apparently having a conversation without words. From what I could tell, the conversation wasn't pleasant. Finally, they seemed to reach an understanding of sorts, and McKay looked away. Turning to me, Carson spoke in his most soothing brogue, the one he usually reserved for dying patients and frightened children. It was the tone I knew he used when he was the most upset. "Laura, maybe it's best if you head home. I have a few more tests to run on Rodney, and then you both need your rest."

I was no fool. I knew exactly what had passed between the two of them in that exchange a few moments ago, but before I could protest, Rodney spoke up. "He's right, Cadman, you should head back to your quarters. You've had a hard day."

I narrowed my eyes fractionally at Rodney, but he refused to meet mine. Sighing, I gave in. "You're right," I said, standing and placing my hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with Carson as I did so, just to make my point. "We've _both_ been through a lot today."

The unfamiliar hardness in Carson's eyes softened somewhat, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Satisfied with at least that much, I exited the medical wing, leaving the two men alone in the stillness of the late night infirmary.

As I headed down the corridor to my quarters, I wondered what they were saying to each other after I left. I wanted to stay, to tell Carson that he didn't have any reason to be suspicious, or jealous, but I was still angry at him for interrupting the one conversation I'd had with Rodney where he'd actually let me see past the snarky exterior, and I didn't completely trust what I'd say to Carson. It wasn't like Rodney had even given any hint that he felt anything more than friendship, and all we were doing was holding hands, for crying out loud! Friends do that all the time, it didn't mean I was attracted to him! Truthfully, I did find McKay attractive, in that same soft around the edges way I found Carson attractive, and being stuck in the same body, not to mention the father of the child I carried created a special bond, but Carson had been nothing but caring and supportive up until now. If he was expecting me to be swept away by McKay's charms and run off to Bora Bora with him where we could sip pina coladas on the beach until the Wraith came to suck us all dry, then he had another thing coming.

Carson and I had our first real fight the next day. He sat down to eat breakfast with me, and I got up and left without saying anything to him. Mature, I know, but hey, hormonal pregnant woman here, some concessions must be made. It didn't help that McKay was nowhere to be found for our usual lunch in the mess. By mid-afternoon, I was sick of waiting for Carson to come fall down and apologize to me, so I sought him out. We had one of those fights where there's no yelling, just talking in low, angry voices. I accused him of being distrustful and possessive, and he flat out asked me if I had feelings for Rodney. Admittedly, my flip answer of, "He's the father of my child, what do you think?" may have been the wrong choice under the circumstances, but once I convinced Carson that my "feelings" for Rodney weren't romantic, he conceded that he may have overreacted, and we each apologized.

It took five days, however, for Rodney to start speaking to me again. I had given up on trying to corner him and make him talk, so I was pretty surprised when one day at lunch he simply set his tray down and took the seat in front of me, without so much as a, "Hey, Cadman, sorry for abandoning you like a teenage boy the morning after prom."

Shoveling a mouthful of pseudo-potatoes into his mouth in a display eerily similar to the one I witnessed a month ago, he started right into the conversation as if nothing was amiss. "Do you remember that question of yours, about whether or not you'd make a good mother?" Rendered speechless by the shock of McKay speaking to me again, only to have the first words out of his mouth question my parenting skills, made it impossible for me to formulate an answer. Luckily, Rodney didn't seem to require one, and simply barreled on assuming I knew exactly what he was speaking about. "Well, I've been thinking, do you love this baby?"

Anger and shock bubbled over as I shouted, "Yes!" with more vehemence than I thought could fit into that one tiny syllable.

McKay continued, undeterred by my tone. "Well, then that's your answer," he said as if it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. "All you have to do is love this baby, and everything else will take care of itself."

I stared at him, flabbergasted, as he shoveled more not-potato-things into his mouth. After several long, mystifying seconds, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upwards involuntarily. "All you need is love?" I summarized.

He didn't look at me, but I saw his mouth pull into a slow smile. "Something like that," he said around a mouthful of food.

If the other soldiers heard me humming a certain Beatles song as I patrolled the corridors later that day, they never mentioned it. Of course, that might have been due to the fact that I was wearing my t-shirt with bold letters declaring, "I'm pregnant and I have C4. Any questions?" It was a gift from Rodney.

oOo

A/N: Okay, I need to stop listening to emo rock when I write, because this came out very angsty. I'll try to keep the angst to a minimum in the next chapter. :)


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Gah! Okay, so I failed in the "lack of angst" department, but that's only because I did a little rearranging of the timeline and combined two chapters, so an angsty chapter I was planning for later made its appearance early. I just felt it needed to happen now, instead of later, because there are things I want to do later that I can't do now unless what was supposed to happen later happens now…if that makes any sense…

On the plus side, this is a looong chapter, and the angst is mostly over and done with after this chapter. I have 4 hilarious (well, to me anyways) chapters left to go. Seriously, stick around for the penultimate (Go GRE vocab list!) chapter, which has been stuck in my mind since I gave this little plot bunny a home. It's the reason I wanted to write this fic. :D On that note, I would like to thank the folks who have stuck with me through my extended hiatus last month. I think I lost a few of my regular readers, but I'm happy that the rest of you still find me entertaining enough to continue. ;) You guys rock! Hopefully you'll forgive me for the moments of "but, but, huh?" that I'll be putting the characters through in this chapter, and please excuse the blatant rip off of _When Harry Met Sally_ at the end.

oOo

From my position on the examination table in the infirmary, I exclaimed snappily, "Are you calling me _FAT!"_

I was partially into my second trimester, and had already progressed beyond the stage where I could hide my growing bulge beneath baggy clothes. That was when Rodney miraculously got his hands on a maternity catalogue, and I realized McKay had manifested his control-freak tendencies in truly bizarre and horrifying ways. Insanity was a common side effect of living in the Pegasus Galaxy, but this was taking it a little too far…

Desperately trying to look at anything but my stomach, he fidgeted and hedged, "What? No, I just…uh…" Like most men, Rodney had no clue how to dig himself out of the 10 foot deep hole he had landed in, and really, there was nothing scarier than an angry pregnant woman. "That is, I mean…" he continued to stammer, wide-eyed, and I snatched the catalogue out of his hands with a flourish. The woman on the cover had a belly the size of beach ball and was covered head to toe in pink, frilly ruffles. I hate ruffles.

"You cannot honestly expect me to go traipsing around Atlantis in this get-up." I flipped through the catalogue heatedly. Geez, was there some unwritten rule that pregnant women were not allowed to wear anything besides flowy ruffles? Stopping at a particularly hideous ensemble, I shoved the open magazine in Rodney's face. "I think these ruffles would get in my way on patrols. Not to mention I'd never be able to accessorize properly. I doubt they make pink P-90s."

McKay sourly ignored my sarcasm. "I like pink," he mumbled petulantly.

"Then you wear it!" I hurled the magazine in his general direction.

Rodney fumed, letting out a frustrated huff and pointing emphatically at my slightly, (_slightly_, damn it!) pronounced abdomen. "Look, like it or not, that stomach of yours is not getting any smaller. And unless you want to start taking after my Uncle Merle and walk around with your giant beer belly hanging out between your shirt and pants, you're _going_ to get some maternity clothes!" At my pointed look and raised eyebrow, he spat, "What?" Clearly confused, but still angry.

I tried so hard to keep the amusement out of my voice. "Uncle _Merle_?" I asked, unable to keep my lips from twitching dangerously close to a smile.

Rodney looked absolutely horrified that he had given me more ammunition in the interminable War of the Baby Names. "No, no, no. We are _not_ using that!"

"Och," Carson tutted, wheeling in the ultrasound equipment. "Would the two of you please give it a rest? If this keeps up, I pity your child. It'll end up with a name like Willard Zusia Cadman-McKay, or something equally as dreadful." My eyes met Rodney's with a twinkle of delight, and before McKay could protest _that_ name too, Carson jumped in. "How are ye feeling, lass?"

"Pretty good, I suppose," I shrugged, trying to cram down my rising excitement. In a few minutes, I'd actually get to see my baby! Sure, it would be through a screen so fuzzy it looked like we were trying to get bootlegged cable all the way from Earth, but the thrill was still there. Unfortunately, the combination of impatience and the previous 4 glasses of water were wreaking havoc on my bladder. Carson insisted a full bladder was necessary for orientation of the ultrasound, but at that moment all I could think about was my growing appreciation for the saying "so excited I wet myself."

"Well, just lie back, and we'll get you all squared away in a moment." Carson smiled sweetly, and helped the obstetric nurse get everything set up. It seemed like Carson was taking an eternity to fiddle with the equipment, focused on cords and connections, and my anticipation grew exponentially. I had no idea what I'd be seeing, but my mind kept flickering between images of a perfectly healthy little baby, or the absolutely terrifying thought that Carson might find something wrong. I unconsciously reached for Rodney's hand in reassurance, but caught myself at the last second. Instead, I wiped my sweaty palms on the papery sheets of the exam table.

With a nod from the nurse, Carson turned to face us, an expectant look on his face. "We're all set. Are you ready?" I bit back the sarcastic reply already forming in my mind and simply nodded. "Alright, this is going to feel a bit chilly," he said as he squeezed a little gel onto my exposed abdomen, and I hissed as the cold fluid caused my stomach to break out in goosebumps. Pressing the wand firmly on my belly (and didn't my bladder just love _that_!) Carson flipped the switch, and I held my breath.

After a moment, the screen blipped to life in all its hazy, black and white glory. Carson began moving the wand around on my belly, and the image on the screen shifted, but it still looked like a bunch of black and white blobs to me. Carson found the large white blob that he claimed was my bladder, moved around a bit more, and suddenly the shadowy blobs took shape. I let out an audible gasp and abruptly felt Rodney's hand grab mine. There, on the screen, was the very distinct profile of a baby curled into a fetal position. And it was _inside me_!

Carson turned and gave me a dazzling smile that I'm sure matched my own. "Your baby looks quite healthy to me. And right on track with its development," he announce proudly. I felt Rodney squeeze my hand, and I returned the gesture, my gaze not leaving the screen. Carson's eyes briefly flicked to our entwined hands before turning back to the screen.

"You can quite clearly see its head and shoulders, there," he pointed to the screen, "And let me see if I can…ah, yes!" he said, pointing to the screen, where a little tiny blob in the baby's chest was shrinking and expanding rapidly. He grabbed another instrument and laid it alongside the receiver, then pressed a few buttons. Suddenly the room was filled with a very familiar sound, and I knew what it was before Carson even said it. "That's your baby's heartbeat."

I felt the moisture well up behind my eyes, and I didn't even try to stop the blissful laugh that bubbled from my chest as I met Rodney's eyes. I'd never seen him look so happy, and I knew that look was reflected in my eyes as well. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as we gazed at each other in silence, hands locked, listening to our baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Carson suddenly moved the wand, and there was a brief interruption before the heartbeat resumed. "Huh," he mumbled, before moving it back with the same result. He did it again, and he and the nurse exchanged a look of puzzlement.

Rodney immediately grabbed my hand tighter and asked in a panicked voice, "What? Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Carson quickly soothed. "It's just…When I move the transducer to this location," he moved the wand, "I get a second heartbeat."

"What does that mean? Is it bad?" I asked, matching Rodney panic for panic.

"No, nothing like that, but it is…interesting," he said with a sly smile, enjoying the suspense. "Laura…it appears you're having twins."

The next thing I knew, Rodney's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a heap to the floor.

oOo

A low moan from the next bed alerted me that McKay was drifting back towards the land of the living. I quickly dog-eared my current page in the maternity catalogue and stashed it under the mattress. I wasn't stupid, I knew I'd need new clothes sooner or later, and McKay's fashion sense not withstanding, there were actually some cute outfits in there. Not that I'd ever admit that to him, though.

Rodney's eyes fluttered open. "Typical, McKay. You always gotta steal my spotlight. It's not always about you, ya know," I greeted.

His fuzzy brain struggled to catch up with his body as he returned to consciousness. "Huh…Wha—?"

"You fainted," I responded cheerfully.

"Passed out," he corrected groggily, then seemed to suddenly become aware of his surroundings. In a mildly alarmed voice, he said, "I guess it would be too much to hope that the last thing I heard before I…" he made a vague gesture with his hands.

"Fainted?" I supplied, grinning smugly.

"Whatever," he replied defensively. "I guess that wasn't just some unconscious delusion brought on by hypoglycemic shock?" His voice sounded so hopeful I couldn't help but smile dotingly.

Carson chose that moment to join us. "Sadly, Rodney, we were all witness to your latest dramatic episode. I'm afraid you really are getting two wee babes for the price of one," he added blithely.

"Right, that's…that's good." Rodney sounded like he was trying very hard to come to grips with this newest bombshell without hyperventilating. Glancing in my direction, he added, "Well, I guess that explains why you're so—"

"Well developed," Carson cut in hastily, making what he thought was a covert shushing motion to Rodney. I just raised an eyebrow in response. I swear, _one_ more comment about the size of my stomach, and I was going to deck someone.

"Er, right…Sorry, this is just…It's a lot to take in," Rodney stuttered, still in wide-eyed shock.

Carson just looked amused. "Well, if you think you can't make it back to your quarters, I could always keep you overnight," he offered helpfully, knowing exactly the type of response he'd get.

Rodney shot out of the bed like a canon, swaying slightly. "No, no, I think I'm okay. I'll just be…going…now…" He stumbled his way out of the infirmary, beating a swift, if slightly wobbly retreat to his quarters.

Rolling my eyes, I got out of my bed as well. "I'll make sure he gets back okay," I offered.

Carson nodded, then grabbed my arm lightly before I could leave. "Laura…" He paused, and he was obviously working to keep his tone light and casual. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?" I nodded, but he certainly didn't look pleased at the concept. "Would you mind having it in my quarters tonight, instead of the mess?" I nodded again, cagily this time, unsure what Carson was up to. "Alright. I'll see you then." He hesitated a moment, then leaned over and kissed my cheek tenderly. It suddenly felt like he hadn't done that in a long time, and I missed it. With a final pat to my shoulder, he headed back to his office and I wandered after Rodney, puzzled by the sudden change of plans.

oOo

I was distracted the rest of the day. My mind had been busy wondering why Carson had changed our dinner date. We'd never been to each other's quarters, and while that felt a little depressing, it really didn't mean anything. Whenever we wanted to be alone, it was just easier to meet at the infirmary. So why did Carson suddenly want to meet at his place?

We were now well into dinner in Carson's quarters, and I still wasn't any closer to finding out the answer. An inner voice that sounded suspiciously like my Great Aunt Mimi (who loved to dispense relationship advice, despite the fact she'd been married seven times) said that maybe he just wanted a quiet evening together, but my gut told me something else was up. My mind had played out dozens of possible scenarios before I'd finally settled on one, and I still wasn't convinced I'd gotten it right. It seemed preposterous, but all the signs were there. He'd been oddly quiet all night, hadn't even noticed that I was actually wearing make up (okay, technically just mascara and lip gloss) despite the fact he was normally so observant about that kind of thing, and hadn't touched his dinner. Carson was also an old fashioned kind of guy, with a close relationship to his family, and a sensitivity for someone in my delicate "condition." As dinner was winding down, I could tell Carson was slowly working up the nerve to tell me something, and it seemed there was only one natural conclusion.

Carson Beckett was going to ask me to marry him…

I still wasn't quite sure how I felt about that idea. Don't get me wrong, Carson is probably the sweetest, most caring and gentlest man I have ever had the good fortune of knowing, and I love him dearly, but when I pictured the two of us standing at the altar together, I got a dull feeling in the pit of my stomach and the whole thing just felt…off, somehow. Of course, that could have been the fact that I was picturing myself in a lacy, ruffled maternity wedding dress with a stomach that looked like I'd eaten the whole wedding cake by myself, but whatever.

Leaning uneasily over the table, Carson took my hand, and I froze. I knew my eyes were so wide they probably looked like they were going to fall out of my head, and I willed my jaw to unclench. "Laura," he said, "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to think about your answer very carefully. If nothing else, I want you to be honest with me, okay?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I don't know who I think I'm kidding. I couldn't form words any easier than I could form any thoughts besides, "Oh god oh god oh god oh god…" My mouth felt like cotton and all I could do was nod mutely, but luckily that seemed to satisfy him.

Nodding solemnly, Carson looked me straight in the eyes and asked, "Are you happy with me?"

Whatever benevolent deity was out there must have heard my silent pleas and taken pity on me, because the power of speech had miraculously returned. Sadly, the power of coherent thought had not, so all I managed was a confused, "What?"

Carson looked a little put out, but asked again, "Are you happy with me?"

Snorting good naturedly at the absurdness of the question, I said, "Carson, of course I'm—"

He held up a hand and I fell silent. "Laura, I want you to really think about your answer. You promised to be honest, lass."

I felt my eyebrows knit together as he watched me. Obviously I was happy with him! I mean, what's not to like? He's smart, compassionate, easy on the eyes, and I liked being around him. Wasn't that enough?

Wasn't it?

That dull feeling in the pit of my stomach surprised me, and suddenly I knew what it was. I loved him, always had, and probably always would, but there was something missing. I didn't know what it was, I didn't even know if I really needed this mysterious "something" to be happy with Carson. The hows and whys didn't matter to me, all that mattered was the way Carson was looking at me now, like I'd just kicked his favorite puppy. "That's what I thought," he said.

Carson withdrew his hand and my breath caught in my throat. "Laura, I think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

I felt something in my chest crack just a little. "Carson?"

He continued, using the calming brogue that hid his distress from his patients. "I can remain as your primary physician, if you like, but I understand if you're uncomfortable. Dr. Bernard is quite good at obstetrics, actually. I would like to think, in time perhaps, we can be friends…but that's really up to you."

"You're breaking up with me?" I whispered, not wanting to believe what I was hearing.

"Laura," that damn soothing voice was really beginning to grate on my nerves, "you know I love you, but—"

"Then don't leave me!" I burst out, incredulous.

Carson continued, still using that earnest, gentle brogue that was driving me up a wall. "I love you like a dear, dear friend, but I can't give you what you need."

"I need you," I spat, disgusted with myself for losing control like this, and at Carson for giving up on me.

"No, you don't. You need somebody that can match that sharp tongue of yours. I can't keep up with that. What we have…" He trailed off and took my hand in his, then began again. "We don't have that passion you need, Laura."

"Passion is overrated," I objected feebly, knowing it was no use. I could already feel angry tears welling up behind my eyes. I jerked my hand away from his and wiped them away.

"Aye, that may be true for some people, but you're not one of them." His fond smile just made me break a little bit more inside. "You take on life like it's a big carnival ride. I'll admit, that's one of the things I love about you, and it was nice to be a part of that for a while. But for you to be truly happy, you need somebody who's up for the adventure as much as you are."

I knew exactly where this was coming from, and I wasn't about to let him get by skirting the real issue. Feeling hot tears spill down my cheeks, I accused, "You mean someone like Rodney."

Carson closed his eyes, and it was the first crack I saw in his calm demeanor. "Aye, like Rodney," he sighed. "You have a connection with Rodney, lass, you just don't realize it. I can't compete with that." I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off with a stern look. "And I shouldn't be expected to."

I clenched my jaw tight, trying desperately to fight the onslaught of tears, but I didn't say anything else. As much as I tried to deny it, in my heart, I knew he was right. It wasn't fair to either of us, and in the end it would make us both miserable. I nodded in understanding, and Carson smiled back sadly. Unable to get my tears under control, I croaked, "I'll see you for my appointment next month, Dr. Beckett." I hesitated a second, then gave Carson a brief kiss to the cheek before turning and practically running back to my quarters. I didn't care who saw me, my cheeks stained with dark streaks where my mascara was running. It seemed like I had to cross half of Atlantis to make it back to my quarters, but when I finally did, I ran straight to my bed, buried my face in my pillow, and cried.

oOo

An hour or so later, the sobs had subsided, but I think that was mostly because I'd exhausted myself. The tears were still flowing freely, but I wasn't even bothering to wipe at them anymore. I was just beginning to drift off to sleep when I heard a voice outside my door.

"Cadman? I need to talk to you. Let me in." Great, Rodney was the _last_ person I wanted to see right now. I buried my head under a pillow, dislodging a few of the wadded tissues strewn about my bed, and that's when the pounding commenced.

"Cadman! I know you're in there, I can see you on the lifesigns detector! Now open this door!" I heard mumbled cursing as McKay fiddled with something outside my door, then grumbled, "If you're just asleep or ignoring me in there, so help me…" My lights flickered out and I heard a yelp of pain as my door whooshed open, revealing Rodney silhouetted in the light from the hall, sucking his injured fingers. "Your door isn't wired properly, Cadman. Seriously, that's a safety hazard, someone should check it out."

In no mood to beat around the bush, I mumbled from beneath my pillow, "Get out," but it came out more as a "Grh-umpf."

In true McKay fashion, Rodney carelessly ignored my warning and strode into my room, saying, "Cadman, wake up. I need you to—"

"Go away!"

This time I know he heard me, because he stopped and asked pissily, "What's your problem?"

Taking the pillow off my face, I sat up and looked at him for the first time. "Dammit, McKay, I said leave me alone!"

Rodney looked shocked and hurt for a second, but his expression quickly morphed into one of annoyance. "Geez, Cadman, you look like hell."

Flopping back onto the bed, which sent a few more Kleenex wads flying, I ground out flatly, "Thank you for bringing your little bit of sunshine into my day, Rodney. I feel so much better now."

"What's the matter?" he asked cautiously, and then he was suddenly by my side, clenching my hand in his. "Is the baby okay?"

"Babies," I corrected.

"What?"

"The bab_ies_ are fine, Rodney." I extricated my hand from his, then groaned, "Which is more than I can say for me right now."

Rodney grabbed a Kleenex from the box on the bed and handed it to me. When I just glared back at him, he rolled his eyes and began wiping my face for me. I thought about swatting his hand away, but I was too tired to move. Besides, it felt good to have someone taking care of me right now. "What happened?" he asked when he'd finished. "I've never seen you like this."

I thought about trying to give him the brush off, refusing to talk about it, but pulling that ploy with Rodney required way more energy than I had in me. Accepting the fact that he'd just pester me until I told him anyway, I admitted, "Carson and I broke up."

Rodney looked like I'd just told him the sky was a nice shade of paisley today. "What? How? …What?"

"Pick a question and go with it, McKay."

Rodney's brief flash of aggravation was quickly buried under a look of sympathy. "What happened?"

I wanted to say, "You did," but I stopped myself. I'd like to say I did it out of a desire to spare McKay's feelings, but really I just did it because I couldn't handle Rodney abandoning me out of some convoluted sense of guilt. Getting dumped once sucked enough, I didn't think I could handle it twice in one day.

"He left me," I put simply, closing my eyes against the fresh flood of tears. "Here I am, nearly 5 months pregnant, and he just pulls the rug right out from under me. I mean, who does that?" I began wearily searching for my Kleenex box among the rubble from my earlier breakdown. "Who abandons a pregnant woman halfway through her pregnancy?"

Rodney found the box of tissues under a pile of rumpled sheets and handed it to me. "I doubt he could abandon you even if he wanted to. There are only so many places in the infirmary to hide…believe me, I've checked."

I sat up and threw a wadded tissue at his chest. "You know that's not what I mean!" I sniffled. "I just hate feeling so alone."

Rodney sat awkwardly on the bed next to me. "You know you're not alone, right? I mean, if it's any consolation, you've at least got me, and I'm not going anywhere."

Smiling weakly through the last of my tears, I said, "I know," and gave up trying to keep myself upright. My head fell onto McKay's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders to hold me up. "Thanks."

We sat like that for several seconds, just taking comfort in each other, when curiosity struck and my eyes openned of their own volition. "Rodney, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"What?" he asked, sounding on the verge of drifting off to sleep. "Oh, it's nothing. I just brought the catalogue with me." He pulled the rolled up booklet out of his back pocket, the same one I had dog-eared and in the infirmary. He must have sensed my confusion, because he added with a hint of laughter in his voice, "I saw you stuff it under the mattress, and I went back for it later. We need to place an order for you tomorrow if we want the Daedalus to be able to bring your new maternity clothes back in the next trip."

"No offense, Rodney, I mean there's a few nice things in there, but I just don't think there's anything that I'll feel comfortable wearing around Atlantis when I'm on-duty."

When Rodney spoke, he sounded drowsy but content. "Well, I doubt the SGC makes a maternity uniform, but I could always put in a special request with the general," he teased. "They love me down there."

I chuckled into his shoulder. "I'm sure they do." I blamed the exhaustion for the fact that it didn't come out as sarcastic as I intended.

oOo

A/N: Beckett/Cadman supporters, feel free to flame me. I kinda hate myself for what I put them through this chapter.

McKay/Cadman supporters, feel free to ease the burn from the flamers. ;)


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Yay! I took my GRE (Gargantuan Retched Exam) today, and although my scores are not as high as I would have liked, at least I didn't bomb it spectacularly. There may be a (very) slim chance that in roughly 4 years time, I will be joining the ranks of the illustrious McKay as Dr. Porthos, PhD. Go me!

Getting back to light-heartedness ("Finally!" the rest of you groan) this little chappie is 98 angst-free and takes place during Inferno. I guess you could think of it as a missing scene, stuck right in between the miraculous rescue and the meeting at the end. It explains why Norena wasn't on Atlantis, despite her obvious enthusiasm to "work under" Rodney, and also works in the funny/cute little exchange between Rodney and John at the end, when they are talking about Rodney telling Norena he couldn't fix the engines. Why would Rodney lie about that, hmm::raises eyebrow knowingly, laughs maniacally:

oOo

I don't remember drifting off, but when I woke up the next morning I was tucked snugly in my bed, and McKay had obviously cleaned up (a miracle in my book) because my room no longer looked like someone had put a hand grenade inside a Kleenex box. Having breakfast alone for the first time was hell, but after that initial day without Carson's usual company I found myself regularly joined in the mess by a rotation of Rodney, Colonel Sheppard, and sometimes even Dr. Weir, and each day the ache was a little bit less. At one breakfast a few weeks later, Rodney had shown up with a large box tucked under one arm, fresh from a new shipment brought by the Daedalus. Inside was a set of earplugs labeled "In case of emergency," an entire set of SGC maternity uniforms, and a note from Colonel Carter that read, "Heard through the grapevine you could use these. Let me know if there's anything else I can do, anybody who would willingly have McKay's child is a very brave woman and deserves all the help she can get. Good luck." (Rodney was still wondering what she could have put in that note that would make me suddenly come around to thinking Samantha wasn't _that_ bad of a name.)

Carson and I had progressed beyond the initial awkwardness and stilted conversations, but the casual familiarity I had come to expect from him was still a long way off. He wasn't exactly making it easy on me, though. When he started dating Katie a few weeks later, I figured it was just a rebound thing, or trying to prove that he was "okay" with me dating Rodney, but I had to rethink my theory after I went to reroute power following a minor surge. Fixing a panel in the east corridor, I had seen them together on a secluded balcony, Katie holding Carson's hand while he talked to her softly. If I had been a bit surly at lunch with Rodney that day, he thankfully never asked about it.

But Carson and I were working our way back to being friends, and so I was surprised when Carson wasn't available for my appointment a month later. Dr. Bernard explained that Carson was called for an emergency offworld. I felt the familiar tightening in my chest that I got whenever I heard the word "emergency" combined with "offworld" while Rodney was on a mission, but it wasn't until we lost contact with the planet that I got a cold feeling in my gut. I was about ready to threaten Zelenka with another hair-frying incident if he didn't hook up a superpowered hyperdrive to a Jumper and fly me to Taranis as fast as the laws of physics would allow, or faster, when I heard that the Daedalus was on its way back with refugees and a very smug McKay in tow.

And yet, it wasn't until Rodney and Sheppard walked into Zelenka's lab that I realized my troubles were far from over. Trailing behind Rodney and positively fawning all over him was a gorgeous, slim, buxom blond.

I wanted to puke, and it wasn't just because I'd had pickles and mayonnaise for lunch.

"And here we have the lab," Rodney said proudly. "This is where I do all my ground breaking research. I've saved Atlantis from catastrophic destruction quite a few times in this very room. Over here will be your station…" Rodney placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her (not that he really needed to, she was attached to him like a lamprey) and I saw red, my fists clenched, and I'm fairly certain my left eye twitched.

"Rodney," I called out, giving my best toothy grin and trying very hard for "friendly and charming," not "deranged and psychotic." The two of them turned as one, Rodney's hand still on her back, and my eye twitched again. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your guest?"

Rodney's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. Thankfully dropping his hand to point, he stammered, "Er, uh, yes. Of course. Everyone, this is Norena, she's going to be working under me…" His face suddenly turned tomato red, and Sheppard made a strangled choking sound. "Er…I mean _for_ me, to learn more about Ancient technology. Norena, this is Dr. Zelenka, Dr. Kusenagi, and ah—"

"Lieutenant Laura Cadman," I interrupted, shoving my hand out rigidly. "Explosives specialist. I enjoy blowing things up. I'm also the mother of Rodney's children. So, how long were you planning on staying?" I tilted my head inquisitively, never letting the smile fall. Sheppard let out a high pitched noise that quickly morphed into a cough.

She ignored my hand, choosing instead to look at Rodney with a baffled expression. "Rodney, you never told me you were married."

"NO! We're not—" he shouted. "I mean, uh…" Rodney cleared his throat again, and tried for nonchalant. "We're not married. It's…complicated. We're not, er…" More throat clearing and vague gesturing. "That is to say, we're not…"

"He's trying to say we're not romantically involved," I added helpfully.

Still puzzled, the new chick asked, "But…she's having your child?"

"_Children_," I corrected with a happy nod. "Twins."

Rodney continued to fidget nervously under her gaze. "Yes, well, like I said, it's complicated."

"Let's just say they were _very_ close for a while, and a little of him rubbed off on her," Sheppard added with a grin, and Zelenka let out an amused snort. Rodney just rolled his eyes and shot them both a quick glare.

"That reminds me, Cadman, what are you doing here?" he asked, a hint of snark in his voice.

Narrowing my eyes fractionally, but still smiling, I replied, "I'm helping Zelenka fix some of the wiring in the city after the surge from a few days ago."

"Okay, well, then don't you have panels to be checking somewhere?" he asked impatiently.

My smiled faltered a little, but thankfully Zelenka saved me before I could snap back. "Lieutenant Cadman has discovered a subroutine buried in the original programming in some of the affected corridors. It seems the city has the ability to set up internal defense shields in the case of an emergency."

"Really?" Rodney's glare immediately vanished and his eyes sparkled with sudden curiosity. "What triggers the shields? Why haven't we seen this before?"

I smiled genuinely at Rodney's infectious enthusiasm and answered. "We're not sure what triggers it yet, but from what we can tell from the program, it seems to draw a lot of power, more than we can really afford to expend testing it."

"Have you run simulations? Let me see what you've got." I called up the information on the large computer screen, and Rodney was already engrossed in throwing out theories and ordering tests when Norena cleared her throat.

"Rodney, I thought you were going to show me the schematics of the Aurora's engines?" she whined sweetly. It made me want to kick her in the teeth.

"Oh, uh…" Rodney looked at me, then at her, then back again. Gesturing over his shoulder, he hedged, "I really should, um…"

"Go," I said, trying to sound reassuring, when in reality I was picturing Norena's generously proportioned bosom deflating like a couple of popped balloons. "I think I'll just go get something to eat, anyway. Lately I feel like I'm always hungry." At Rodney's pained expression, I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "Really, McKay, go ahead. The simulations will still be here when I get back." Rodney nodded, then turned and headed towards Norena, already atwitter about having him all to herself.

A few minutes after I sat down in the mess, Colonel Sheppard happily plunked down a tray full of food and asked, "So, you wanna tell me what all that was about?"

I stopped the forkful of apple pie and pickles halfway to my mouth. "Excuse me?"

"C'mon, Cadman. I've seen jello wrestling matches that were prettier than that display a few minutes ago. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

I ignored his question, instead asking one of my own. "Jello wrestling, sir?" I raised an eyebrow.

Sheppard just smiled. "General O'Neill took me while I was in Colorado. And don't change the subject." He pointed his fork at me accusingly.

I looked down at my plate sullenly. "I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you."

Sheppard stared at me silently for what felt like a long moment, then shrugged and picked up a handful of fries, apparently letting the whole thing drop. Sitting up eagerly, he began in a conversational tone, "Did I ever tell you I almost joined Mensa?" I must have looked incredulous, to say the least, because he continued defensively, "Hey, I may not be another McKay, but I'm pretty good with numbers. I can usually put two and two together to make four." He winked. "For example, if I were to take one recently single, pregnant woman and add two mildly infatuated scientists, I'd get three sides of a pretty damn weird love triangle."

I rolled my eyes and buried my face in my hands. "And where does the meddling commanding officer come into this equation?" I asked, my voice thick with sarcasm.

"Me?" he asked innocently, popping a few fries into his mouth and grinning. "Think of me as the common denominator." I could only groan. "So, how long have you had a thing for McKay?" he asked casually around a mouthful of fries.

"I do _not_ have a thing for McKay!" I objected loudly, drawing a few amused glances from the people around me. Sheppard just looked at me skeptically. "I don't!" I said, this time a bit quieter. "I don't see why nobody believes me!" Sheppard just gave me the same dubious smirk I'd seen him give Rodney when he complained about his hypoglycemia. Sighing inwardly, I asked, "Not buying it, huh?"

"Not a word," he answered merrily.

Gazing skyward with the "Why am I surrounded by idiots?" expression I'd learned from McKay, I tried again. "Listen, Colonel, I appreciate you trying to talk to me about this. Really I do. But unfortunately, there's nothing to talk about, so if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go take a nap." I gathered up my tray and headed out, leaving the Colonel with a knowing grin that he refused to wipe off his face.

Who would have thought I'd have such a yenta of a commanding officer? Okay, so technically I could _kind of_ see how he could get the impression that I was jealous, because really, what woman wouldn't take one look at the Claudia Schiffer wannabe of the Pegasus Galaxy and _not_ be a little envious, especially a woman with half a basketball for a waistline? But really I was just looking at this entire situation from a military, tactical standpoint. When McKay was distracted or unfocused, he made mistakes. And when he made mistakes, things usually went kaboom to a spectacular degree. Norena and her Chest of Abundance were just one big, walking distraction. (Well, okay, make that _two_ distractions.) Sheppard, as a military officer, should have realized that she was just an accident waiting to happen and should never have brought her to the city. Wasn't it his job to _prevent_ the destruction of Atlantis on an apocalyptic scale?

I stopped short just outside my quarters, struck dumb by the sight of McKay ringing the jingly little chime that was supposed to be a doorbell, but always had me looking around for Tinkerbell when I heard it. Although, ever since Rodney had "rewired" my door, it sounded more like a sickly, possibly drunk Tinkerbell.

Before I could turn and head the other way, he spotted me and called, "Cadman, I was looking for you."

"Let me guess, you were baking brownies, and you want to borrow a cup of sugar?"

Rodney rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Look, can I just come in?"

I debated saying no for a second, because I really was looking forward to a nap, but then I just sighed and opened my door. He followed me inside and immediately started talking as if we were already in the middle of a lengthy conversation. "Look, Norena is just a colleague. She wanted to work in my lab so that I could be a kind of…mentor, I guess. Anyway, this shouldn't be a problem." He said it as if it was a preposterous idea.

"Fine," I shrugged, actually sounding pretty convincing.

"Fine?" Rodney parroted.

"Yes, McKay, it's fine," I lied. "Honestly, why would you think I'd have a problem with this?"

Rodney looked a like he'd been geared up for a knock down, drag out fight, and the wind had been taken out of his sails. "Oh," he deflated. "Well, I mean we've been spending a lot of time together lately, so I guess I just…You're really okay with this?"

"Look, Rodney, I'm not going to lie and say I think she's up to the intellectual challenge of, say, operating delicate machinery and chewing gum at the same time, but it's your lab. Staff it how you want, you don't need my approval."

"Oh," Rodney pondered a moment, then broke out in a triumphant grin. "Ha! And Sheppard thought you'd say it was a bad idea!"

My quirked eyebrow went unnoticed. I really needed to have a little discussion with my CO about his backseat driving tendencies…

Rodney continued to smile as he said, "Look, I'm glad you're okay with this Cadman, it makes things a lot easier. Oh, and Norena needs some of your clothes."

Coherent thought halted in its tracks for the second, or possibly third time that day. "My clothes?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yes, just some of your old uniforms, until we can get some new ones for her. You still keep them in the top drawer, right?" he asked as he headed towards my dresser. "I figured you wouldn't be needing yours for a while, obviously, so I told her she could have your old uniform."

I'm surprised McKay didn't hear the gears in my brain grind to a halt. Or maybe that was the sound of my teeth gnashing together. "You…you told her she could have my clothes?"

"Isn't that what I just said? Try to keep up, Cadman," he snapped, pulling a set of my old BDUs from the top drawer. "She said she felt out of place in her clothes, and since you and her are the same size…Well, at least, you used to be, before you got—"

"Complete that sentence and die, McKay," I snarled.

"What? I was going to say pregnant, not…the other thing…I assure you, my suicidal tendencies are not nearly as well developed as Sheppard's."

"At the moment, that's debatable," I growled.

Rodney just continued on as if he hadn't heard me. "Listen, are you going to help us run diagnostics on the internal shielding mechanism or not, because I need to get these to Norena, and if—"

"I'm coming," I answered abruptly, grabbing my equipment and storming past him towards the lab, leaving him running to catch up.

oOo

Roughly two hours and three eye twitches later, Rodney, Zelenka, Norena, and I were standing around one of the fried panels as Rodney attempted to initialize the shield subroutine with Norena hovering close by, wearing _my_ old uniform. I tried not to think about how it looked better on her than it ever did on me. I'd gotten bored with Rodney's frustrated jabbing at the datapad, and was busy glaring at Norena, constructing various circumstances involving a shaved head, a permanent marker, and that weird plant extract from PX3-242 that had made the entire botany staff break out in a purple rash for three weeks. Just as I was internally debating the merits of the classic hair-dye in the shampoo scenario, Rodney let out a furious huff.

"This isn't working," he spat in annoyance. "Radek, your simulations were worthless!"

"_My_ simulations?" the Czech snapped back. "You were the one who wrote the programming!"

"Yes, and my programming was flawless. You obviously entered the parameters wrong!"

Zelenka's face reddened and he began sputtering in Czech. Before he could get himself under enough control to regain his tenuous grasp of the English language, Rodney held up his hand for silence and tapped his radio. "Yes, I'm here. What now?" He answered the call with his usual charm. After a few seconds of silence, he rolled his eyes and said, "Well, just reboot the system, and—" His eyes widened. "You did _what_! No, no, no, don't touch ANYTHING! Just…stay there. We'll be down as fast as we can." He tapped off his radio with a muttered, "Monkeys. I'd be better off with trained monkeys!" Grabbing Zelenka's arm, he began to haul him back towards the labs, Norena following close behind as always. McKay grabbed her shoulders abruptly and stopped her. "No, Norena, you stay here. The chemistry department has apparently decided it would be fun to play with the Naquada generators and blow us all to kingdom come. You'll just be a distraction down there. Stay here with Cadman, don't touch anything, and I'll be back soon."

Then, not allowing time for an objection, he released her and grabbed Zelenka's arm again. As Rodney dragged him off, Zelenka cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder at the two of us and asked quietly, "Are you entirely sure that was wise?"

Rodney waved off his protests and said, "They'll be fine. We have bigger problems."

And really, I should have known McKay would jinx us like that. The Pegasus Galaxy had a cruel sense of irony.

Turning back to the fried panel, I began randomly pressing a few of the buttons on the datapad, silently brooding that I had been stuck with bimbo-sitting duty. Norena gave me that mildly perplexed look that I'm sure men found cute but just made me wonder what she'd look like with shaved eyebrows. "Are you sure you should be doing that? Rodney said not to touch anything until he got back."

I squelched the childish urge to shout, "You're not the boss of me!" and instead chose to roll my eyes and retort, "Oh, please. If McKay couldn't get this thing to work after two hours, what are the chances that I'll be able to make it work after only—" There was a sudden buzzing sound and the air was filled with a static charge I could feel on my skin. I looked up just in time to see a blue flash on either side as the internal shields immediately sprung to life, effectively trapping us.

"Uhm…I'd say the chances are pretty good, actually," Norena supplied helpfully.

"Huh," I gazed at the fields surrounding us, nonplussed. "Would you look at that?"

Snapping my attention back to the datapad in my hands, I began taking readings and…okay, that wasn't good. I immediately began pressing more buttons, trying to shut down the shields, and found Norena gazing over my shoulder at the screen. Knowing I was in way over my head, I tapped my radio to call for Rodney, but only got static. Damn, too much interference. "What's wrong?" Norena asked.

"Nothing," I replied petulantly, still madly pressing buttons to no avail.

"Can you shut down the shields?"

I paused momentarily in my efforts to sigh irritably. "No," I admitted reluctantly, popping the panel covering from the wall.

"What are you doing now?" I felt Norena close behind me again, buzzing questions in my ear like a particularly annoying fly. I wondered what McKay would say if I gave in to the compulsion to swat her.

"I'm attempting to manually disconnect the power source from the shield generators."

"Is that really necessary? I'm sure Rodney will just shut it down when he gets back," she said, her supreme confidence in Rodney's genius showing through.

"Unfortunately, it's not that simple," I answered, wildly fiddling with a few of the wires in the exposed panel. "Shields draw an enormous amount of power, something that's a bit of a rare commodity here on Atlantis, and these shields are using about five times more energy than they should. It's siphoning power from something, but I don't know what. The longer we wait, the more power it drains. I need to—"

"I understand," she interrupted. "Rodney told me how shields aren't designed for continuous use. You need to shut them down to conserve energy. Please, continue."

After a half-second, I snapped my gaping jaw shut and turned back to the panel. "Er, right. Thanks." Norena was still hovering over me in a manner eerily similar to the way Rodney does when he's convinced I've got chocolate hidden on my person and am refusing to share. I continued fiddling with the wires, but Norena gaping over my shoulder had me distracted, and I accidentally touched two wires together that I really shouldn't have. I jerked my hand back when I felt the shock go through me, and the action caused my elbow to collide sharply with the bridge of Norena's nose.

With a yelp, she stumbled back, her hands immediately flying to her face. I recoiled from the sharp zap, feeling a brief jolt in my chest. "Gah! Are you insane?" she shrieked.

"I'm sorry!" I apologized, shaking the tingles out of my arm. "It was an accident! That thing electrocuted me!" I silently blamed Rodney and his Karmic genes for getting me in this mess, because I didn't see what I could have done to the universe to make it _this_ pissed at me.

Norena groaned as she drew her hands away, revealing a small trickle of blood. I stifled the brief flash of satisfaction I got from knowing she wouldn't be able to charm McKay quite as easily with two black eyes. Wiping gingerly at the dribble of blood, she said snippily, "Whatever you're doing, it obviously isn't working. Let me try."

I felt my temper snap. "Listen, Pegasus Barbie, this is pretty advanced stuff. I don't think you can just bat your eyelashes at it and expect it to behave."

Norena shot me a condescending look that I _swear_ she learned from McKay. "I didn't become chief scientist of Taranis' most advanced Ancient facility by batting my eyelashes, Lieutenant. Now, step aside and let me work." I didn't say anything as she shoved past me with a mumbled, "Are _all_ Earth scientists this difficult?" As much as it pained me to admit it, she had a point.

After a few frustrating minutes in which all I really did was hold a light for Norena while she worked, the shields flickered off and Norena cast me a pleased smile, which I returned with a pained grimace. Before she could commence the gloating, Rodney rounded the corner. Taking in Norena's bloody nose, my slightly frizzy hair, and the way we were huddled around the control panel, he immediately burst out, "What the hell happened here?"

"It was an accident!" Norena and I both shouted simultaneously.

oOo

Half an hour later, I was sitting in the infirmary, watching McKay provide Norena with a steady supply of ice packs and tissues, all the while casting wary glances my way from across the infirmary. Carson had suggested we be seated as far apart as possible, and neither of us had objected.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "The way Rodney keeps looking at me, you'd think I'd started a catfight the likes of which has never been seen since the last time Gucci had a shoe sale."

Sheppard snorted from his position next to my bed, where he had lazily draped himself over a chair. "Jealousy really doesn't work for you, Cadman. You should try playing hard to get."

I refrained from saying I wasn't out to "get" anybody, because he wouldn't have believed me anyway. Instead, I stared at Rodney as he stole a pillow from the slumbering occupant of the next bed and added it to the already massive stack behind Norena's head, ignoring the protests of the now awake patient. "Are we sure she hasn't put the whammy on him?" I asked abruptly.

Sheppard just laughed. "The whammy?" he asked.

"Yes, Colonel, the whammy," I replied in all seriousness. "There's no way Rodney would really be attracted to someone like that!"

He shrugged, ineffectively hiding his smirk. "I dunno, from what Rodney says, he actually prefers dumb blonds, so she seems perfect for him."

"Oh," I blinked, then looked at the band-aid on my index finger. I suddenly wished I had a giant scorch mark up my arm, instead of a measly little blister.

"Although," Sheppard continued conversationally, "given his history, I'm not so sure I buy him on the 'dumb' part. But the blond thing I definitely believe."

I glanced up in time to see McKay walking Norena out of the infirmary, and Carson was headed towards my bed. Picking up my chart, he made a few quick notes then said, "Laura, I think I'd like you to stay in the infirmary overnight, just for observation."

My stomach dropped. "What? I thought you said the shock wasn't that serious?"

"Aye," he said placatingly. "It was a low voltage dose, that's true. I'm sure you'll be fine, but given the way things tend to go around here, I'd rather be safe than sorry. Is there anything you'd like to have someone retrieve from your quarters?"

I debated whether or not to ask him to bring me Marty. We were allowed one personal item, and I had to choose the stuffed bear I'd had since I was three. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even consider admitting I had a stuffed animal, let alone ask someone to bring him out in public, but I felt like I could really use some comfort and security after the day I'd had. "Just a set of pajamas, actually. And maybe another set of BDUs for tomorrow," I finally answered.

"I'll send someone to get them, Beckett. You have enough to worry about," Sheppard suggested helpfully.

"Thank ye, Colonel," he nodded. "Why don't you try to get some rest Laura? I'll be back to check on you in a bit." Almost as an afterthought, he squeezed my hand tentatively and added, "I'm glad you're alright."

Feeling like we'd jumped over a giant hurdle, I smiled tiredly. "Thanks," I said before he nodded and headed off to check on his other patients. Sheppard stuck around for a little while longer, making small talk until I succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.

The sound of gentle rustling woke me up several hours later. I opened my eyes drowsily to see a figure bent over the chair by my bed, placing what I assumed were a change of clothes there for me. My voice thick with sleep, I whispered, "Thanks, Colonel."

The figure turned at the sound of my voice, and I was taken aback to find myself looking into the face of Rodney McKay. Sitting up, I asked, "Rodney? What are you doing here?"

"I, um," he gestured to the chair, where he had laid several objects I could barely make out in the dark of the infirmary. "Sheppard asked me to pick up a few things from your quarters, so I—"

"You brought Marty?" I asked, my sleep addled mind apparently forgetting to filter the words before they left my mouth.

I could make out Rodney's grin even in the dark. Picking up the matted bundle of patches and fur, he held the stuffed bear out to me gingerly as he sat on the edge of my bed. "I found this guy hiding under your pillow. I thought you might want him," he explained.

Taking the bear and running my fingers over the balding fur and missing eye socket with practiced ease, I held the bear close, not caring if McKay made fun of me or not. "Thanks," I mumbled.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Rodney finally said, "I, um…I owe you an apology."

I raised my eyebrow skeptically. McKay didn't do apologies…or at least, he didn't do them _well_. "For which part?" I questioned warily.

I could actually see Rodney stamp down the sarcastic retort with a sigh. "I shouldn't have told Carson you attacked Norena. I was out of line." At my expectant look, he continued, "And for making him scan you for a goa'uld or the enzyme…And for saying you're a walking disaster. Although you can't really argue that you always tend to be around when bad things happen."

"_Me?_" I asked, incredulous. "What have I ever done?"

And cue the sarcasm. "Oh, where should I start? The Wraith transporter incident, the goa'uld bomb, the freak pregnancy, and now this mysterious power overload," he ticked each off on his fingers. "You have to admit it's rather alarming."

"I seem to recall you being present for all those things and then some! If anyone's incurred the wrath of the cosmos, McKay, it's you! And don't even pretend you think this pregnancy is a bad thing, I know you better than that."

Rodney sighed, and the fact that his apology wasn't triggering another dispute was a sign that he really was sorry. "Yeah, you're right. And the power surge wasn't that bad, either, actually. We figured out that the shields were draining off power from the overloading generators. It probably bought us the extra few seconds we needed to avoid a catastrophic overload."

"So, I saved all your lives, then?"

McKay rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well, I wouldn't go that far! It was just dumb luck that we even—" He stopped at my amused expression and cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment.

I shrugged noncommittally before changing the subject. "Where's your shadow?"

It was McKay's turn to shrug. "I sent her home. Well, to the planet they're temporarily calling home. She wanted to help me work on fixing the engines on the Orion, but I told her that given the time constraints and lack of adequate manpower, it would take me months to get them up and running. I just don't think I could spend that much time one on one with her."

I snickered into my hand. "Sick of your fan club already, McKay?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic snort. "Yes, she's gorgeous, and smarter than she looks, but she has a tendency to…hover. It's disconcerting."

I smiled shrewdly. "She really has no concept of personal space, does she? I was tempted to lock her in a room with Dr. Grebbans and give her a taste of her own medicine."

"Grebbans?" Rodney asked quizzically. "Miko and Simpson are terrified of him, too. Aside from a completely laughable view of string theory, I don't see what's so repulsive about him."

I gave him a meaningful look. "His nickname is Dr. Grab-ass."

McKay raised his eyebrows a fraction. "Oh…"

After another long moment, Rodney became serious again. He reached out and took my hand gently in his. "I really am sorry, Cadman. I said I'd be there for you, and I meant it. I should never have put you through that. Do you forgive me?"

I felt my breath inexplicably catch in my throat at the look he gave me. It was the same look that he'd given me before, that was both open but unreadable, like I was missing something that was right in front of my face. I was still trying to read his eyes in that dark room when I felt a little tap inside me, and I jumped. "What?" he asked, seeing my reaction.

"I don't know," I answered, perplexed. "I think I—" And there it was again. I looked up and felt my face break into a magnificent grin. Without words, I took both his hands and placed them on my stomach, covering them with my own. He looked confused, but didn't try to pull away. We stayed like that for several seconds as the tension grew, and then suddenly, he felt it. He jerked his hands back in surprise, then comprehension dawned, and he placed his hands back on my belly with a brilliant smile. "They're kicking," I explained unnecessarily.

I once again covered his hands with mine, and our eyes locked. I saw such joy and awe in his gaze that I swear I stopped breathing, but another kick from the babies jolted me back into reality. I think those babies were trying to knock some sense into their mom, because I was suddenly blindsided with the realization that had come so naturally to everyone else and I had been denying for months.

I was absolutely, devastatingly, head over heels in love with Rodney McKay.

Oh, crap.

oOo

A/N: Argh! This monster of a chapter is finally done! And can you tell I absolutely loved this episode:) Jealous!Cadman is so much fun to write. And by the way, the first person to review this fic will be my first ever 100th review! XD (Don't everybody jump up at once…)


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Gah! Beware the Fluff! I am buried in Fluff of my own creation, oh woe is me! Run! Save yourselves! Rosebud…

By the way, there's also a lot of UST in this chapter. I really didn't intend for there to be quite so much, and the rest of the fic hasn't been that way, but…I think I got jumped by a gang of UST bunnies while writing this. It's the only explanation.

Also: Bah! I spit on the canon timeline! Phooey! So yeah, it goes a little AU from here (post Inferno).

And Teyla fans, forgive me. I love her too, but her moments of "I am the Zen Master. Come, let us have tea while I light candles and stretch in odd ways" were just _begging_ me to write something like this. It was too powerful to resist. I know nothing about Lamaze except for a few wierd odds and ends here and there, and I just made up Tiyamel, so don't even worry about this being accurate. Just go with it. ;)

oOo

In the months after my little moment of emotional clarity, things got…complicated. My brain couldn't stay focused for longer than a few minutes without drifting to thoughts of Rodney. My heart pounded anytime he entered the room. My hands would reach out of their own volition for some sort of casual contact, and I clearly invaded his personal bubble anytime we stood near to each other. It was like my entire body was staging a coup against the rational side of my brain that just wanted to get the hell away and regroup.

I'd never been uncomfortable around men before. I'd always been the type of person that when I saw something or somebody I wanted, I went for it, not holding anything back. I usually got what I wanted, but if I didn't, I just picked myself up and moved on. This tendency had caused the occasional snag in the past, such as when I hounded Jimmy Miller for three months until he finally asked me to Senior Prom, only to find out after the fact that he was gay. But for the most part, this tendency had served me well. Jimmy had even helped me pick out the perfect prom dress.

Now, however, McKay had me off-balance, and I hated it. I found myself second-guessing things I would do or say around him, and I didn't like feeling so nervous and unsure. I knew what I would do if he was just another guy, someone I had just met or barely knew, but this was _Rodney_, and that made everything different. I may have still been fuzzy on a lot of his personal life, but I knew his moods, and I could usually read his expressions like an open book. That should have made things easier, but it just made it more difficult. I knew how to act as "Cadman: the sometimes annoying friend and mother of current progeny," but I had no clue how to fit into the role of "Laura: the girlfriend and/or wife and mother of any and all future progeny." And I wouldn't be filling _either_ role if I acted on how I felt and Rodney didn't feel the same. The thought of spending my life without Rodney there, adding his moments of arrogant bluster and panic and occasional sweetness, made my chest tighten painfully, so it was clearly not an option I even wanted to consider.

Like I said, things got complicated.

"Cadman!" Rodney burst into my quarters without knocking, but given this was his usual entrance, it didn't faze me. At some point he had programmed my door to open for him automatically. I knew I should be angry about his assumption that he had a right to be in my quarters anytime he wanted, but since he'd done the same thing for me with his own door, I took it to be a very McKay-esque gesture of affection. "Are you ready yet?" he continued, walking straight up to the open bathroom door, where I was glaring at myself in the mirror. "We're going to be late! What are you…Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

Oops, busted. "No!" I objected automatically.

He smiled at me knowingly. "You are, aren't you? You're practicing your Mom Look!"

"No, I wasn't! I was practicing the look I'm going to give you for making me go to this ridiculous class," I countered defiantly, then actually gave him The Look.

Rodney just rolled his eyes. Hmm, that wasn't quite the reaction I was going for... "Keep practicing," he replied and glanced at his watch. "But do it later, because we are now officially late for Tiyamel class."

Ah, Tiyamel, the art of Athosian Lamaze. If breathing hard and thinking happy thoughts were really the cure for excruciating labor pains, there wouldn't be any need for epidurals…which I plan to have. Heck, I'd just ask Carson to put me into a medically induced coma for the whole thing if I thought he'd do it.

As if reading my thoughts, Rodney said, "Look, I know you don't plan to use this, but it was Carson's suggestion. And Teyla is just trying to help out." Teyla had approached Carson not too long ago about a Tiyamel class that she was planning to set up on the mainland for a few Athosian couples, and asked if it would be appropriate to ask us to join. Apparently, Charin had been a Dhashoa, the Athosian version of a midwife, in her younger years, and Teyla had been her apprentice until her duties as a leader took over.

Sighing and knowing I didn't really have anything to complain about because it gave me an excuse to hang out with Rodney, I acquiesced. "Fine, let's go."

I tried to make polite conversation on the way to the Jumper bay, but I ended up bickering lightly with him the whole way. It was effortless and familiar when dealing with Rodney, so it was easy to fall back on when I began feeling nervous. As we entered the transporter for the Jumper bay, I cast Rodney a glare, daring him to say something about how my gargantuan belly took up over half the transporter. Remembering my reaction the last time he had said something of that nature, he wisely kept his mouth shut. Really, he didn't have all that much to complain about. I hadn't even left a mark from the defense hold, and that pulled muscle in his back was almost healed now.

Just then, one of the babies gave my insides a mighty wallop. I winced and grabbed my stomach, and Rodney immediately took notice. "Are you okay?"

"Relax, McKay. I'm not going to pop these babies out while we're in a transporter," I chided. It seemed like the nearer we got to the due date, the jumpier Rodney became. I winced again as I felt another jab. "I think the boys are just practicing their kickboxing."

'The boys.' Sheppard had started calling them that after Carson's last ultrasound determined the twins were most likely a pair of identical twin boys, and the nickname had stuck. Although, how Carson could tell just by looking at that fuzzy screen was beyond me.

"Good," McKay sighed, relieved. "For a second there, I thought you might be faking labor to get out of the class."

"Don't be ridiculous," I replied. "I've already done that once, it wouldn't work a second time." McKay just huffed in response, and I determinedly stifled my giggles, remembering how frantic and hysterical he had been for about twenty minutes, and how worked up he'd been afterwards. It was the most entertainment I'd had in weeks.

The Jumper ride to the mainland was rather calm, with only some mild teasing on my part regarding his piloting skills, or lack thereof. When we reached the village and the small hut that Teyla had designated for the class, everyone was already there waiting. We ducked our heads at the glare Teyla shot us for being late, _again_, and took our spot on the mat that was already laid out for us. Of course, it was right next to the bossy, overcritical witch-lady. She always found a way to condemn my Tiyamel skills, then somehow relate that to how I would raise my children. As if the two were even related! But I was determined to ignore her comments this time, and sat on the mat without even giving her a second glance.

I settled in the position we'd been taught, in between Rodney's legs with my back pressed to his chest and his hands on my shoulders. I felt my face flush like it did every time, thankful that Rodney couldn't see it with my back turned. I tried hard not to think about how cozy and personal our arrangement felt. All the other couples had obviously been in much more intimate entanglements than just sitting in their partner's lap, so nobody else thought twice about their position. But for Rodney and I, our situation was drastically different, and I was reminded each class that this was the most touching we'd ever done. My heart did a little happy dance, complete with back flips, and I wondered why I fought coming here each week.

"As I was saying," Teyla continued, "It is important that you practice these strategies with your partner outside of class. Tiyamel is about finding your center and your strength, making the act of childbirth more pleasant. With proper practice, you will easily be able to clear your mind and focus when the time comes, but it will be much more difficult to do so if you have not practiced your techniques. Now, why don't we start on the exercise I taught you last week?"

Ah, yes, now I remember why I hate coming here. It's a bunch of new-age mumbo jumbo, and some of the techniques are utterly absurd. Heaving a long sigh, I allowed Rodney to take my hands in his and began breathing as Teyla instructed. Quick breath in, slow breath out. Quick breath in, slow breath out. Repeat until "centered," or your face turns blue from oxygen deprivation, whichever comes first.

"You're not doing it right, dear." Oh, joy, bossy lady has benevolently decided to grace me with her invaluable advice. "It's a _slow_ breath out. You're breathing out _much_ too quickly," she whispered smugly.

Glaring at her, I took in a huge lungful of air and begin to let it out _very_ _slowly_. I went on for so long that Rodney actually let go of my hands and poked me in the ribs, making me release all my air in a gasp. "Play nice," he whispered in my ear through clenched teeth, and I closed my eyes and pretended that feeling his breath on my cheek didn't affect me at all. And I definitely wasn't tingling inside.

"Easy for you to say," I whispered back. "You're not the one she's telling how to breathe! I've been doing it fine since I was born, I don't think I need her help."

"Shh!" The couple on the other side of us scolded.

"Oh, shush yourself!" I replied, earning a flick to the back of my head from McKay. "Ow!"

"Women," Teyla said, a little louder than necessary, and narrowed her eyes in our direction. "Your breathing exercises should be making you feel tranquil and centered by now. I think this is a good time to practice the meditation technique from last week. Men, remember the relaxing pressure points we discussed earlier: the back of the neck, the ears, and the palms of the hands. These are also sensual points on the body, so it should stimulate pleasurable emotions that will allow the women to focus through the pain of childbirth. For this technique, you need to grasp the women by their hands to begin." Rodney did as instructed, a little firmer than was absolutely necessary. I resisted the urge to dig my fingernails into the back of his hands in response. "Now, remember the motions we practiced. Up, out, and in. A little more slowly, Maylin. That's good."

Rodney lifted my arms above my head, then lowered them out to my sides and brought them back in to just below my shoulders in a kind of bizarre swimming motion. He repeated it a few more times before he reminded me snippily, "Breathe, Cadman."

"I _am_ breathing. Have I passed out yet? No. Hence: I am still breathing."

McKay growled. Actually _growled_. "Breathe like Teyla showed you. And stop leading!"

"I'm _not_ leading! I'm just trying to keep you from jabbing me in the sides with your elbows like you kept doing last week!" I whispered heatedly through tight lips.

"That wasn't my fault!" he snapped back. "I had to compensate because you kept _leading_!"

"He's right, you know," came a familiar pompous voice. "Your arms are much too stiff. If you keep doing it like that, your baby will have bad Jujemeh at birth. Here, do it like this." As she demonstrated the move, she fell limp like a fish. Her husband rolled his eyes at her back and performed the motion, her arms hanging from his hands like overcooked spaghetti noodles. "There," she said, brightening. "Wasn't that perfect?"

I just looked at her like she was cracked in the head. "Look, lady, if you want to look like a drunk marionette while giving birth, that's your prerogative. I'll stick to my way, thanks."

The harpy-woman gasped crossly and I felt another slap to my shoulder, accompanied with a curt, "Cadman!"

"OW! Would you stop it, people are going to think I have an abusive boyfriend. Don't blame me if that stocky guy who keeps glaring at us from the other side of the room corners you at the end of class."

"He's glaring at _you_ because you won't shut up!" He whispered in a low voice. "In fact, these people would probably crown me and hail me as their new leader if I could get you to be quiet, no matter how I did it!"

"Shht!" The couple on the opposite side admonished again.

"See? They all want you to be silent!"

"_Me_? I think that one was directed at you, supreme ruler of Tiyamel class!"

"If you two don't stop fighting, I don't know how you'll raise a child." The stuck-up hag chose that moment to intervene. "I pity any young one brought up in a house of such malequah!"

It was inevitably at this point that McKay chose to snap, "Listen, she is going to make a _great_ mother, and I suggest you worry a little less about other people's business and a little more about your own. Your husband has been eyeballing Teyla behind your back in every class!"

The shocked look on her face was priceless, and I couldn't stop my grin from forming at Rodney's words. But a few minutes later, standing in front of a very displeased Teyla Emmagen, I wasn't smiling anymore. "Perhaps," she began diplomatically, "it is best if we continue your training in…private sessions. I am afraid you are preventing the other couples from attaining their proper focus."

We both agreed apologetically, and as soon as we got back to the Jumper, Rodney started in. "I can't believe you got us kicked out of Tiyamel class!"

"Hey! I wasn't the one who told off the snobby, bossy lady!"

"Well, she's done nothing but insult you every week! I was getting sick of it!"

"Okay, that's…actually kinda sweet," I muttered awkwardly.

"Really?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah," I smiled shyly, and he returned it. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he asked, "You don't really think we fight too much, do you?"

I snorted. "Oh, please, don't let what that woman said get to you. Fighting is a sign of affection. At least in your case."

He looked at me skeptically. "How do you figure?"

"Trust me, if you're willing to put in your valuable time to argue with somebody instead of just write them off as a lost cause, I know that you think they're worth it. I'd be more worried if we didn't fight."

Rodney pondered my answer a moment, then his face spread into a slow smile, but he didn't say anything. I decided to take advantage of his good mood and go for broke. Having made my decision, I suddenly felt very queasy, but I kept telling myself it was just Rodney's bad piloting that was giving me motion sickness, and plowed on.

"Um, if you're not doing anything when we get back…I mean, I know you've probably got work to do or something, but you've got to eat, right? So, um, if you want—"

"Spit it out, Cadman," he teased, trying to hide his smile.

"Do you want to have dinner with me?" Oh god, don't freak out, it's not a date, please don't freak out Rodney, it's not a date…unless you want it to be, then it's a date…Oh god, what am I going to wear?

There was a momentary pause and I panicked that he was going to get weird on me, but then he replied casually, "Sure, that sounds fine. I've got to check on some projects in my lab first, maybe take a shower because I smell like a yak from sitting in that Athosian hut, but then I can meet you for dinner. How about 7:00 at your place?"

Trying to cover my shock and delight at his answer, I aimed for nonchalant and said, "Fine, but if you're late because you got wrapped up in something at your lab, I promise to put lemon in your food."

"Hey, _I'm_ not the schedule-challenged one," he reminded. "In that case, I'll grab something from the mess on my way over." Continuing to smile, he added, "And if you're lucky, I'll even let you argue with me when I get there."

oOo

By 6:55, I was a nervous wreck. And it was all Rodney's fault.

As soon as I had gotten back to my quarters, I had torn my closet apart looking for something to wear. I only had a handful of nice maternity outfits that weren't BDUs, and I had put each one on before discarding them and deciding this was Not A Date, and then put my BDUs back on.

After that I decided this really was A Date, and had run over to Kate Heightmeyer's place to borrow her curling iron. After I curled my hair, I figured it would be weird if my hair was all fancy when Rodney came over and he thought it was Not A Date, so I brushed it all out. It looked too froo-frooey anyway.

Then I decided even if it was Not A Date, it wouldn't hurt to look nice, and changed out of my BDUs into a pale blue shirt (which I refused to admit had ruffles, even if McKay had said otherwise when I ordered it) and black slacks. Then I curled my hair again. And put on make-up. Then my outfit looked too casual for my face, so I changed into a strapless black top and dangly earrings.

Then I decided I looked too dressed up for it to be Not A Date, and McKay might get the wrong idea, so I took it all off again. But I kept my hair curled.

By this point, my quarters were a mess, and I figured even if this was Not A Date, it wouldn't hurt to take a little pride in my place. I had cleaned up, but then realized there was no place to eat except on the floor, or sitting on my bed. Since that would just be awkward, I headed over to Miko's to borrow her Japanese table and a couple of pillows. We'd still be eating on the floor, but now we'd be eating on the floor _with style_.

Finally resolving myself to the idea that I really didn't know if this was A Date or Not A Date, I settled for somewhere in between. I put on some denim capris and a casual khaki wrap-around top with a navy blue tie-strap and some small diamond earrings. By then it was 6:55 and I was in the bathroom deciding which make-up to re-apply when I heard Rodney call my name from somewhere inside my quarters. Damn that man for jury-rigging my door! "I'll be out in a minute!" I called, hastily applying lip gloss and mascara while silently cursing Rodney's over-enthusiasm for being prompt. I tried to decide which shade of eye shadow to wear while simultaneously vowing to contact Zelenka and make it his number one priority to Rodney-proof my door. I picked out blue eye shadow, then decided I hated that color and wondered why I had ever bought it, choosing a golden brown instead. At 6:58 I squinted at my reflection in the mirror, decided my curled hair still looked too froo-frooey, and tried to smooth it out with my fingers. Finally, I figured, "What the hell," and opened the door to my bathroom. "You're early," I said to Rodney's back.

"Yes, well at least you know how to tell…time." He had turned to face me, and his jaw dropped nearly to the floor. At his reaction, I bit my lip to keep the pleased smile off my face. While he stared, I took the opportunity to take in his outfit. If nothing else, my suspicions about his fashion sense were confirmed. He was wearing brown slacks and an orange and green striped button down shirt. The pattern on the shirt was god-awful, and probably would have hurt my eyes if he didn't look so good in it. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, and the top few buttons were left open to reveal the white t-shirt he had on underneath. Ugly shirt not withstanding, he looked very cute.

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, I said, "Close your mouth, McKay, you're catching flies."

His jaw snapped shut with an audible click, and he immediately began making flustered excuses for his reaction. "Well, it's just…It's not…I've never seen you…pretty."

It was very much the type of compliment I would expect from Rodney, but I still had to quirk my eyebrow at him. Realizing how that must have sounded, he began hastily backpedaling. "I mean, you're always pretty, of course, I just never notice…Well, I do notice, but not—"

"Don't give yourself an aneurism before we've had a chance to eat," I rolled my eyes, still smiling. "And you look nice, too."

"Right, yes…er…really?"

Deciding to save him from himself, I asked, "What did you get for dinner? I'm starving."

Suddenly remembering that he had, in fact, come here for reasons other than to stare at me, he turned to the short little table where he had placed our food. "Well, the mess didn't have much selection, so I just got us some of that purple Athosian pasta stuff, but for dessert—" Rodney held up a finger dramatically, then moved to the edge of the bed where he had draped his jacket and lifted it up to reveal a small carton and a jar of something green. Holding them up proudly, he continued, "I managed to sneak into the refrigeration section when Olaf's back was turned, and I got these."

Catching sight of the labels, I couldn't help but laugh. "Rodney! You stole pickles and ice cream for dessert?"

"Well, pickles and ice cream for you, just the ice cream for me. I hope you like Rocky Road."

It wasn't my favorite, but I took the carton and jar from him happily, saying with a bright smile, "It's perfect!"

He returned my smile with an anxious, but pleased, nod. "Right, good. Well, that ice cream is going to melt soon, so shall we get started?" I nodded back, and soon we were digging into the Athosian pasta and having pleasant conversation, even if McKay did complain every five minutes about what sitting on the floor was doing to his back. Before long, we'd made it to dessert and bickering.

"Oh, come on!" Rodney shouted, waving his spoonful of ice cream around dangerously. "You know, sooner or later you're going to have to start thinking of _actual_ baby names, not just come up with names you know will annoy me. You need to take this seriously, Cadman."

"I _am_ serious!" I objected. "What's wrong with the names John and Carson?"

Rodney gave me his patented "You are stupider than I ever imagined" look and said, "Okay, completely ignoring the fact that is was _your rule_ that we can't name them after exes, they're twin boys. We're having twin boys, and you want to name them _John_ and _Carson_. Do you have any idea how much teasing they'll get in school?"

"What? Those are perfectly normal names, Rodney!"

"Oh, sure, they're fine by _themselves_. But these are _twins_ we're talking about." The way he kept emphasizing it made me want to point out that yes, I was well aware we were having two babies, not one, because I got a double dose of little jabbing feet and hands on a daily basis. "They'll go everywhere together, and their names will always be said together. As soon as just one kid makes the connection, bam!" he snapped his fingers for emphasis, "They'll be known as _Johnny Carson_ for the rest of their lives. That's just cruel."

Sighing, because okay, I hadn't really thought of that, but I wasn't giving in that easy, I continued, "Well what do you want to name them? Thing 1 and Thing 2?"

"I don't know, something normal!" he said, the final "duh" heavily implied.

Thinking hard, I said, "Matt and Pat?" Getting the desired appalled groan in answer, I pressed on. "Don and Juan?" I kept going, on a roll now. "Fabio and Merle?"

"Oh, god no!" he shouted, looking disgusted. "Seriously, Cadman, can't you come up with something better than that?"

Looking down at my bowl of pickles and ice cream, I muttered, "You know, it wouldn't kill you to start calling me Laura."

"Huh?" Rodney asked, puzzled by the change in topic. "What's wrong with 'Cadman?'"

"Nothing," I continued, feeling a touch self-conscious now. "It's just…I'm going to be the mother of your children, it would be nice to be on a first name basis," I replied, a touch of sarcasm in my voice.

He squinted at me. "But you call me 'McKay.'"

"Yeah, but…" He had a point, and I was stuck for a response. "Not all the time," I finished feebly.

Rolling his eyes, he replied, "Fine, Laura it is then."

I shrugged and took a moment to sulk, because that had not gone at all how I planned, and Rodney said after a moment, "Not that I'm not happy to be having boys, but it would have been nice to have a little girl."

Puzzled by the seeming non-sequitur, I felt my lips twitch in a smile and asked, "You really wanted a girl?"

Suddenly very interested in his ice cream, Rodney didn't look up when he answered. "Yeah…She'd probably look like you, but she'd have my brains, and I could spoil her rotten, get her ponies and things. And terrorize her boyfriends, I'd be really good at that," he smiled ruefully, then frowned. "But Sheppard wouldn't be allowed anywhere near her after she turned 18."

"Rodney," I smiled warmly, "he'd be like, 55 by then!"

"Have you _met_ John Sheppard? You really think that would stop him?"

"I see your point," I conceded, still grinning.

"I even had the perfect name picked out," he continued enthusiastically.

"So help me Rodney, if you even _thought_ about naming one of our children Norena, I will drop kick you through the next incoming wormhole."

"C'mon, Cadm—Laura, give me a little more credit than that!"

"Okay then," I replied skeptically, "What was it?"

Rodney once again became very interested in his dessert. "Nevermind, it doesn't matter now."

"Oh, I don't think so," I teased. "You're not getting off that easily. Where's that baby names book you're always carrying around? I bet you've got it marked in there."

Rodney's eyes went wide. "I…I didn't bring it with me," he lied. He was a terrible liar.

I locked him in my most penetrating stare. "Really?" I asked, dubious.

Rodney's eyes never wavered from mine, much like a mouse caught in the sights of a hungry viper. After a long time, almost imperceptibly, his eyes flicked to the jacket still sitting on my bed. Smirking triumphantly, I cocked an eyebrow, and then we were both up like a flash, racing towards the jacket. Despite the fact that I was rather large around the middle, I had years of military training on my side, and I naturally made it there first. I quickly whipped the book out from one of the pockets, then narrowly evaded Rodney by ducking under his arm.

"Let's see," I said, flipping through the pages. "Is it…Daisy?" Rodney made a frantic grab for the book, but I easily sidestepped his reach. "No? How about…Myrtle?" This time I narrowly missed the grasp and had to duck under his arm again. "Oh! Here's a good one: Delores!"

Finally realizing he'd never catch me, Rodney gave up trying and asked snippily, "Are you done yet?"

"You're no fun," I pouted, setting the book on my nightstand.

"You're just now figuring this out?" He snarked, putting his hand on his back and wincing. "Ow. I think you made me pull something. Again."

"Aw, poor baby," I said, completely unsympathetic.

"I feel sorry for our children if this is how you'll treat them anytime they get hurt," he groaned, sitting down on the edge of the bed like a crotchety old man.

"You should know better, Rodney. All moms ever have to do is kiss it and make it better," I quipped before realizing quite what that implied. And okay, awkward now.

Luckily, Rodney was oblivious as always. "Sadly, that method's probably on par with Beckett's voodoo magic." He groaned again, leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes. "I'll be fine in a minute, just let me rest," he mumbled. Opening one eye to glare at me crankily, he added, "You know, if you want to make it up to me, we could put this time to good use and practice some of those Tiyamel techniques."

It was my turn to groan. "Not again, Rodney! I hate those things, and quite frankly I don't see why you're so persistent about them. You don't really strike me as the incense and bamboo garden type."

"I'm not," he protested. "Don't you want to be prepared, just in case something…I just can't stand the thought that you might be in pain somewhere, and not able to do anything about it," he finished reluctantly. And really, how could I say no to that without coming off as a complete jerk?

"Okay, fine," I sighed, giving in. "But I'm not doing the backwards figure-eight one. Or the one where I have to flap my arms like a chicken."

Rodney chuckled. "Fair enough," he replied. Willing myself not to blush, I sat down in my usual position. If I thought it felt intimate while in that smelly Athosian hut with a bunch of other couples there, it was nothing compared to how it felt to be sitting there, in my room, on my bed, with Rodney's arms wrapped comfortably around me. I was so close I could smell his aftershave, and I just knew he could sense the heat radiating from my skin as I felt my entire body turn scarlet. "Look, I'll make you a deal," he said as we shifted both our positions to get more comfortable. "Let's not do any of the techniques this time. You just concentrate on your breathing, and try to relax. Think you can handle that?"

Hating that Rodney knew I never backed down from a challenge, and hating that he even knew how to push that particular button of mine, I nodded. "Piece of cake," I said mockingly.

"Good. Now close your eyes and be quiet for once."

"Look who's talking," I countered, and Rodney pinched the back of my hand. "Ouch!" I yelped, but I got the message and promptly shut up. I tried to concentrate on the stupid breathing exercises, for once taking them seriously, but it was a little distracting when Rodney was gently massaging the spot he'd pinched on my hand. I was finally beginning to feel relaxed, or maybe just drowsy, when McKay's fingers began slowly brushing along the back of my wrist and up my arm. I felt my skin break out in goosebumps where he touched me. I asked tentatively, "McKay, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, you're supposed to be focusing," he answered curtly. Grunting at his response, I did as ordered and resumed trying to find my "center" or "chi" or whatever Teyla had called it. By the time Rodney's hands rested lightly on my shoulders, however, I'd given it up as a lost cause. Deciding he hadn't told me exactly _what_ I should be focusing on, I began concentrating on the feeling of Rodney softly massaging the back of my neck with his thumbs.

Okay, wow. You'd never guess it by the way he was always frenetically waving them around, but the man had magic hands. I felt my body slowly relax into his touch, and I sagged a bit further until I rested firmly against his chest, biting back the contented sigh just before it reached my lips. I was certain he had no idea what he was doing to me, and I wasn't about to let him find out. If he had any clue what those hands were capable of, he would be gloating to the entire population about his fourth greatest super power, right behind his brain, his ability to berate anything mildly sentient into a puddle of sobbing goo (military grunts didn't count, he said, because they weren't even _mildly_ sentient), and his iron stomach, respectively. And really, he had enough problems without having to worry about never getting any work done because there was a mile-long line of women outside his lab waiting for backrubs.

I held my breath to stifle a moan of pleasure as his hands carded gently into my hair. My head rolled forward completely against my will, but I was enjoying myself too much to mentally chastise it properly. It had been way too long since anyone had touched me like this, even Carson, and I was reveling in every second of contact.

I felt rather than heard Rodney's soft chuckle. His breath fluttered against my cheek as he whispered in a low, husky voice, "Don't forget to breathe, Cadman."

My eyes snapped open in sudden realization. He knew. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing to me, and even worse, he was using that knowledge to _seduce_ me! Now that I knew, I could actually _feel_ the smugness radiating off of his fingers as he slowly caressed my neck and shoulders.

Somewhere in the cluttered files of my brain, a folder labeled "Rodney McKay: Bad With Women" was quietly chucked out the window.

I grinned wickedly. Well, two can play that game. "It's _Laura_," I corrected. "And there's no talking, remember?" I felt him chuckle again, low in his chest, and it was enough to make me quietly declare war on his ego. I placed my palms on his knees, one on each side of me. Digging my short fingernails ever so lightly into the fabric of his pants, I began slowly drawing them up the length of each thigh. His hands halted their motion on my neck, and my triumph at having beaten him at his own game appeased the part of me that missed the contact.

His breathing hitched when I reached mid-thigh, and his hands reached around to stop my progress. Clearing his throat, he said, "That's enough of that." Clasping my hands firmly in his to check any tendency they may have felt to wander, he said, "You were supposed to be meditating."

"I was," I answered resolutely, because I would never in a million years admit that a few light touches had distracted me from my military ingrained focus.

"Fine," Rodney pouted. "Let's just agree to keep our hands to ourselves, and try this again."

"Fine," I agreed, then tried to extricate my hands from McKay's grip, which he only tightened. "Rodney? What happened to keeping our hands to ourselves?" I asked mischievously.

"I don't trust you," he replied frankly. "Now shut up and breathe." Only Rodney could say that and make it sound endearing.

I smiled to myself, gave his hands one last squeeze before relaxing, and then closed my eyes. Quick breath in, slow breath out. Quick breath in, slow breath out. I'm not sure how long it went on like this, but at some point my rhythm was broken when I was overtaken by a wide yawn. Realizing how tired I felt, I turned to Rodney, expecting him to think my exhaustion was just an excuse to get out of more practice. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw just over my shoulder. Rodney was dead to the world, having fallen so deeply asleep as to be near-comatose. His face was completely relaxed, his jaw hanging slack, and the tiniest bit of drool was beginning to puddle near the corner of his mouth. It was quite possibly the sweetest thing I'd ever seen.

I knew I couldn't get up without waking Rodney, and looking at that adorable sleeping face, I didn't really want to. I was drowsy myself, and pretty comfortable, so I decided to just snuggle up with my giant Rodney-shaped teddy bear and go to sleep. He was much better than Marty, anyway.

oOo

The next morning I drifted awake at a leisurely pace. My neck was a little stiff, but that could probably be explained by my pillow. It was soft, and somewhat comfortable, but it was lumpy in all the wrong places. I attempted to smush a few of the lumps out, but it only earned me a low grunt from the pillow. Wait, huh?

Oh, right. I slept on top of McKay. Silly me.

Opening my eyes slightly, I took stock of the situation. I still had my back pressed up to Rodney's front, but I had sort of slid down during the night so my head now rested in the middle of his chest, and I could hear his slow, steady heartbeat. He had one arm slung over my middle, right where my ribcage met my giant stomach. The other hand rested securely on my hip. I took a moment to squash down the butterflies I felt at waking up in Rodney's arms, then tried to think about how to get out of this situation without McKay having a "morning after" freak out. I was right in the middle of convincing myself that no, it would _not_ be easier to just curl up, go back to sleep, and deal with it later, when I felt Rodney shift beneath me and heard a slight sigh as his arms tightened. I felt him nuzzle the top of my head sleepily, and cursed the butterflies for not staying where I put them. I knew the moment he became fully aware when his body stiffened a bit and his heartbeat changed, picking up the pace. I froze, pretending to still be asleep, and after a very long moment, he said groggily, "You can stop faking it, Cadman. I know you're awake."

Abandoning all pretense, I snapped my head up to look at him. "What? How did you—"

"You snore," he said, trying to hide his smile.

"Yeah, well, you drool," I replied childishly.

"I do not," he said, wiping self consciously at his chin. "Now get off me, I think you ruptured my spleen last night with your elbow, and you laying on top of my bladder isn't making me any more comfortable."

I smiled, pleased that McKay wasn't going to get weird on me, and after a brief argument over who got first dibs on the bathroom (me, obviously) I started brewing a pot of coffee and set out a few vegetable omelet MREs for breakfast. As I poured Rodney a cup of coffee and added five whopping spoonfuls of sugar, just like he liked it, I almost laughed at myself. It felt so natural to be doing this, spending my morning with Rodney as he puttered around my tiny kitchen area talking about nothing in particular. I could almost lose myself in the novel feeling of domestic bliss that washed over me…almost. It felt too much like playing house, and I couldn't afford to give in to the underlying sense of rightness I was feeling on the off chance that this was just a freak occurrence, one perfect morning of contentment, that I would never have again. It was too dangerous to get used to the idea of waking up to Rodney every morning, only to have that possibility snatched away because sometimes the universe threw you a sucker punch. I was still getting used to the fact that I couldn't just pick myself up and dust myself off as far as Rodney was concerned, and it felt strange having to protect my heart like that.

Rodney was simultaneously looking for the salt and providing a lengthy diatribe of all the systems he and Radek were planning to check later, in order to find the source of the power surges we'd been having, when there was a knock at my door. Normally the drunken Tinkerbell chime would have sounded, but it had stopped working right around the time McKay reprogrammed my door. Seeing as how Rodney was still engrossed in his search for the salt and probably hadn't even realized there was someone at the door, I walked over and opened it with a whoosh, revealing Colonel Sheppard.

"Hey, Cadman," he greeted, "I know it's early, but have you seen McKay around? I can't find him anywhere, and Zelenka needs him to—"

"Ugh, Laura, what did you do to me last night? My back is killing me," Rodney groaned from around the corner, hidden in the small alcove of a kitchen.

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up so fast I almost thought they'd reach escape velocity and rocket off his forehead. "No, Colonel, it's not what you think! We were just—"

Rodney, however, oblivious as always, continued, "I think you sleeping on top of me last night may have ruptured a disk. Do we have any chiropractors on Atlantis?" Sheppard shot me a glance that said, "Save it," and Rodney chose that moment to round the corner. He took one look at Sheppard and spit his mouthful of coffee all over my floor. "Colonel! What are you—It's not like we—I mean we were just—"

Sheppard held up his hands as if fending of Rodney's rambling onslaught of words. "Whoa, McKay, I really don't think I want to know. I just came here because Zelenka's looking for you."

"Can't it wait?" he protested, holding up his fork for emphasis. "I'm having breakfast!"

Sheppard cast a sideways look my direction. "Well, I'm not an expert on Czech curses, but I got the impression it's pretty important. Maybe you should come back and have 'breakfast' later." I could actually _hear_ the air quotes as Sheppard spoke, despite the fact that his arms remained firmly crossed over his chest.

Rodney apparently heard them too, because the next thing he said was, "You are such a child. Fine, radio Zelenka and tell him I'm on my way, and try not to blow anything up until I get there." He shoveled the last few bites of food in his mouth, drowning them with half a cup of coffee before following Sheppard out the door.

Winking shrewdly at me as he left, Sheppard tapped his radio to contact Zelenka. "Check. No explosions without you present. Got it," he said. As the doors shut behind them, I knew Rodney was rolling his eyes in response.

I smiled after them for a few seconds before turning back to my quarters. I tried not to think about how quiet and big it seemed now, with McKay gone. I was just beginning to clean up the mess Hurricane Rodney had left in my kitchen when I heard the door to my quarters whoosh open. There was only one person it could be. Smiling, I called, "Did you forget something Rodney?"

"Yes," he replied, barreling around the corner and walking up to me. "This." Without even breaking stride he took my face in his hands and brought his lips down on mine, not crushing or bruising but with enough passion to knock the wind out of me. His mouth was warm and soft, and he tasted like really, really sweet coffee. When he started to pull away it kick-started my brain, and I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him back to me and eliciting a surprised "Ompf!" as our lips met once more. Several long, bliss inducing moments later, I had decided oxygen was overrated. However, I didn't fancy explaining to Zelenka how I managed to make the chief of science pass out from oxygen deprivation as a result of excessive lip action, and okay, yeah, maybe a little tongue too, and…oh, yep, definitely tongue…what was I saying?

Oh, right. Oxygen good, unconscious Rodney bad. Reluctantly, I pulled back to see his face looking adorably rumpled, dazed, and thoroughly kissed. Smirking proudly at my achievement, I said, "You'd better go. Zelenka's expecting you."

Rodney just gazed back, puzzled. "Who?" Coming back to himself, he said, "Oh, right, Zelenka." He paused for a moment before his pink, swollen lips curled into a smile and he leaned in again. "He can wait." He kissed me again, still searing but tender, and I felt the world black out for just a second. All too soon Zelenka's voice over the intercom in my room brought me back to reality.

"Rodney, if you do not stop making out with Cadman and report to the lab _right now_, I will play this security footage for all to see at next movie night!"

Rodney turned and spoke to the tiny security camera installed in the corner of the room. "Radek, can't you just give me one minute of peace! If I'd known I'd have to come baby sit you every five minutes, I'd never have assigned you to my team!"

"It is a blessing that the security cameras were not installed with sound capabilities. I can see your lips moving, but I hear no words. I think I shall deal with you this way from now on," Zelenka's voice piped into the room, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

Sheppard's voice came over the intercom next. "McKay, get your ass down here now! I'm not sure how much longer I can keep Zelenka from blowing this place up without you."

Laughing, I rested my head on Rodney's shoulder, then started herding him towards the door. "You'd better go. They're hopeless without you."

"Don't I know it," he grumbled.

"I'll see you for dinner?" I asked.

Pressing a quick, tender kiss to my lips, he said, "Not if I get done by lunch." With a smile, he dashed through the doors and headed off to the labs, on his way to avert the most recent crisis.

The doors shut once more, but somehow my quarters didn't feel as empty this time. Unable to keep the wild grin from my face, I allowed myself to say what I had been afraid to even think before. "I could definitely get used to this."

oOo

A/N: Aw, if you can watch a man drool onto your pillow and find it adorable, you know it's love. :) Oi, this is the longest chapter I have ever written in any of my fics. I hope it didn't drag too long, but I've been wanting to put the characters in this position for months, and once I managed it I just didn't want it to end. ;) And it came out much fluffier than I intended, but really, you can't have Rodney do nothing but snark and bicker all the time without just wanting to give the guy a hug. This is my first time writing major UST (okay, so technically it's RST, whatever), at least between these characters, and I'm afraid it may have come out sounding a little clichéd, so please let me know if it came out forced or contrived in any way, I'm always trying to improve my writing. And get excited about the next chapter, it's the second to last one, and the entire reason I started writing this story in the first place :D


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